


Cinders

by ghtlovesthg



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tumblr: promptsinpanem, WIP, everlark, secondary character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8612191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghtlovesthg/pseuds/ghtlovesthg
Summary: Canon-Divergent AU. As rebellion starts sweeping through Panem like wildfire, Katniss learns it will take all she has to keep her loved ones from getting scorched. Submission to PIP. Everlark. WIP





	1. Fashion is Fickle

**Author's Note:**

> This story began as an entry for PiP: Round 2, for the prompt,"What If?" The story quickly became too long to complete in time, so the idea was shelved, and I've worked on it intermittently since then. I decided to submit it to Prompts in Panem's "The Final Tribute: The one that got away" event, because it's always been my first THG story idea, and the fic I always meant to write. I will be posting the five chapters I have written, and then I'm going to return to my other poor, languishing WIP, On The Threshold.
> 
> This is a Canon-Divergent AU that starts with the first chapter of THG. Rated M for canon-typical violence and eventual adult themes
> 
> Endless thanks to The RPGenius, for all the brilliant beta reading.

" _Fashion condemns us to many follies; the greatest is to make oneself its slave"_

_\- Napoleon Bonaparte_

 

It was unseasonably cold the year of the 74th Hunger Games. The citizens of the Capitol cursed the weather that winter. Physical discomfort was only familiar to them when broadcast on a television screen. They did not like things that were beyond their control. Somehow, District Three still hadn't figured out a way to control the climate outside of an arena.

Fancying themselves resourceful, Capitol fashionistas declared the sartorial stylings of former Games stylist Tigris back in vogue. The flashy hues and frou frou that had been all the rage were happily abandoned for the "new" haute couture - layers upon layers of furs, which, coincidentally, happened to keep one quite warm. As trendsetters accessorized with cat-ear hairpieces and fangs, winter passed into spring.

 

* * *

 

Effie sighed as she waited for her stylist to finish the calico detailing on her 3-inch artificial claws. Softly rolling mountains drifted past the window as their train sped east, signalling District Twelve's approach . She had been so sure feathered eyelashes and bright pantsuits were going to be the new thing this spring, but Tigris still held the country in thrall with multicolored whisker implants, skin stripes and spots, and the newest - belts with fully articulated robotic tails attached.

And who was Effie to fight the newest fad? She refused to wear anything that wasn't in the first stare of fashion before a crowd of hundreds. Ignorant, unwashed miners or not, she had an image to maintain for her audience as the District Twelve escort. Especially if she wanted that transfer. So a claw-like manicure it was, then.

 

* * *

 

Katniss stared at the bread in her hands. The outer crust was a crispy golden-brown, baked to perfection. The inside was light and springy as goose down, but hearty all the same. It smelled heavenly.

She wondered idly how it would feel to treat today like any other. Clearly the baker and his family had woken before dawn to bake, just as they did every morning. Even Reaping Day couldn't change that fact that people needed bread. Did maintaining the same routine as ever, no matter what the Capitol held in store, lessen the fear and dread associated with the approaching afternoon? Was such a thing possible?

Gale pulled Katniss from her reverie as he took the half loaf she held and spread goat cheese on it, before adding a basil leaf to each portion. She tasted the treat, savoring the creamy tartness of the goat cheese with the cloudy lightness of the bread, and let her mind dart back to the bakery. Would cheese buns taste similar to this? She tried not to pay any mind to the novelties merchants cooked up in a futile attempt to drive in more business, but those always looked especially tempting. Katniss had always wanted to get some for Prim, but they were too pricey to justify. But maybe tomorrow, with the reaping behind them, she could pull a decent haul in the forest and surprise Prim with some.

Gale interrupted her musings once again, and Katniss's mouth, still full of bread, dropped open as he intimated his desire to run away with her. How could he think she'd do something so reckless and impulsive? Prim was counting on her. So was her mother. Katniss shot him down immediately like she would a squirrel, no hedging or reasoning to soften the blow. It would never happen, never work. Gale couldn't be thinking like that.

But Katniss could see that he still was. She hadn't quelled Gale's restlessness with her discouraging words. There was ambition and determination simmering in him, and the desire to take decisive action of some sort, any sort, burned through, filling his eyes to the brim.

Katniss grimaced. Gale was ruining a rare, lovely breakfast. They were supposed to be soaking in the beauty and freedom of the world outside the fence before this afternoon, _just in case_. Not hatching harebrained schemes of escape. She felt sure he was just itching to start in on a tirade against the Capitol too, but he seemed to sense that she didn't want to disturb the peace of the morning.

Katniss detested life in District Twelve like anyone, but she wasn't willing to endanger what was precious to her for change. She would rather monitor a situation unseen and determine the best method for survival. As long as there were people who'd notice they were gone, and punish those left behind, she wasn't going anywhere.

She regarded the rest of the food sadly. It was foolish to think they could escape the Capitol, even for just a meal. Gale wasn't dredging the topic up, it was already there. Ever present, weighing on their minds, settling heavily over their lives like a pall. Katniss stuffed the remains of the bread in her mouth before getting up. If she couldn't outrun the Capitol's oppressive reach by coming all the way out here, maybe some foraging would distract her from Gale's troubling dissidence. And the reaping still loomed on the horizon, hours away. She couldn't wait for this day to be over.

 

* * *

 

Effie desperately contorted her fingers as she tried to clasp any slip at all from the glass bowl on stage. This unfortunate and unforeseen effect of feline nails had turned into a rather embarrassing wardrobe malfunction. The little pieces of paper were simply too thin, and her nails too long. She also suspected her carefully coiffed mane had been knocked askew, leaving sections standing on end after Haymitch had accosted her in front of the cameras. Could this day get any worse?

Then she lost her grip on the dratted slip of paper she'd chosen _again_.

Finally, Effie just scooped up a pile of girls' lives in her palm and grasped the one on top with the sides of her fingers.

"Delly Cartwright" she trilled, relieved to be half done with this year's fiasco of a reaping.

By the time her new selection technique yielded a slip reading "Gale Hawthorne" from the second glass globe, Effie was close to asking for a swig of whatever vile substance Haymitch kept in his flask.

 

* * *

 

Inside the Justice Building, Katniss sat by Gale, head resting on his shoulder. She didn't speak, trying not to let her despair show through. What point was there in saying things they knew weren't true, wasting their last moments on empty bravado or false hope? The Games were a death sentence. It was too cruel to put on a brave face and pretend when they both knew better.

He'd told her to keep his hunting knife. The object had been ever present at Gale's side - it was his pride, his survival, an extension of him. They had to stow their bows and arrows in the forest each day, but the smallish blade was concealable and commonplace enough that it could be brought back into the district relatively safely. The thought that he didn't need it any more froze her heart with bitter denial. Holding it now, seeing it in her hands, where it didn't belong, drew the horrible reality of the situation down around Katniss more inexorably than the reaping itself.

How much longer did they have? For how many more minutes would they be able to sit in quiet solidarity before the Peacekeepers intruded, prodding Gale toward the train station and the grim prospect that awaited.

It wasn't that she thought Gale couldn't win. He was smart, skilled, strong and resourceful enough to be a serious contender. But Katniss knew he'd never get close. It would be impossible for him to hide his hatred for the Capitol from Caesar, the public, and the Gamemakers. The Games would cut him down at the first chance to set an example. Even if he _could_ hide his disdain, Katniss doubted Gale would choose to.

He turned to her. Already, his eyes were filled with a vehement hostility that promised action. "I've got to do something, Catnip. Something to show them I'm not just going to play along like the rest. That they can't control us if we don't let them."

"Gale, no. Just - at least try to survive, okay? For your family. I'll keep my promise. I won't let them starve," she swore.

"Katniss," he responded, suddenly tender as he took her hand and turned it in his own. "How do you plan to do that? The promise…it was a little scrap of hope, the illusion of some control, maybe, but it was never something I expected you could deliver on.

"I fully intended to keep my end of the deal if you were Reaped," he rushed to assure her, seeing her look of shock. "I want you to know that. But you only have two extra mouths to feed. There'll be four new bellies for you to fill, two of them growing boys.

"How could you possibly accommodate that? You're going to work yourself into the ground trying and failing to keep everyone fed, then blame yourself when you can't do the impossible. And all the while, Prim and your mother will be suffering as everything is stretched too thin. It'll destroy you."

Katniss lurched away from him, enraged. "I can do it!" she spat, even as she wondered how she'd possibly manage. It was no secret to her that Gale's hauls were bigger than hers by necessity. She was the more skilled hunter, but he'd made up for that and surpassed her with the sheer number of snares he could set and reset in a day.

Snares eliminated the time spent tracking and could be left overnight to work in their absence. She was only familiar with about a dozen of the more simplistic types, and it took her far longer to set them. There wasn't enough time in the day to hunt and check the snare lines herself, never mind finding the time to forage and fish. Then there was the actual trading, which was a significant time expenditure in itself…

She shook her head, disregarding her worried calculations. Katniss wouldn't accept that. Better to funnel her panic into anger. "How dare you make a pact with me, not intending to hold me to my end of the bargain! I'm not some delicate flower, Gale!"

Gale chuckled humorlessly. "Believe me, Catnip, I know." He stared at her with sad intensity, and Katniss realized that he was memorizing her face. Her gut clenched with dread and denial. This couldn't be the last time she'd ever see her best friend.

"I can teach Rory and Vick to hunt, they can help," she continued desperately. She had to convince him this was possible before he left. He needed a reason to want to come home. And if he believed it, Katniss could too.

Gale shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, I'll be eternally grateful for whatever you can manage. But how are you going to teach two kids to snare and shoot enough to feed a family when they've never even been outside the fence?"

"We learned when we were kids. There was a first time we ventured into the forest too."

"It takes a long time to learn to be any good. That's time you don't have. Try all you can, but I have no illusions about how things will eventually end up. They'll take out tesserae 'til they're guaranteed a spot in the arena. Ma will do laundry from sunup to sundown, her hands raw and fingers cracked to the bone from lye, and it still won't be enough. Posy'll be lucky to end up in the community home if they don't starve outright," he said darkly.

She bit back a gasp at the bleak forecast, and the utter certainty in his voice. There was a rawness in his expression as he spoke his next words.

"Katniss...when they came to say goodbye, the way Ma looked at me...I think she knows." Gale was lost to the devastating memory for a moment. "All that work, all that struggle…I did everything I could think to do, and learned to do more besides. And still, I've failed them." His voice cracked and he sank in on himself, weary and defeated.

"You haven't," Katniss insisted fervently, grabbing him by the shoulders. "And neither will I!"

The corner of his mouth quirked in response to her passionate words. "It's good to see your fire." His eyes were bright and said too much. Katniss had to look away.

The room grew quiet as their thoughts consumed them.

"We were never meant to succeed, you know that, right? It was always hopeless. All these years, we just fooled ourselves into believing otherwise," Gale said, staring out the dingy window into the square where people stood, waiting to see him off to the Games. "The Capitol was always going to catch up to us. I almost feel foolish for trying."

Katniss clenched her hands into fists to still the trembling of her fingers. Everything was falling apart around her. Her breath was unsteady and her eyes were burning, and the only thing she could think to do was keep shaking her head in denial at every word he said. How could he feel foolish for trying? For all the days spent in their woods? For feeding his family for all these years?

"That's why I've got to do something. I could never be their Victor, some little puppet for their glory. So my only choice is whether to go quietly or not. And I _won't_ go quietly," Gale said, voice low with conviction.

"Go ahead then," she bit out furiously. "I guess we can't stop you. Make some futile, empty statement and get killed for it." Katniss turned and angrily unfastened a few buttons on the front of her dress. She tucked the hunting knife between her waistband and undergarments, adequately concealing it, before turning back. "Why not? you've already given up on everyone here.

"But know this, Gale Hawthorne:" She stood tall and stared resolutely up at him. "I won't give up on them! To that I'll swear!"

And with that she stormed out of the room, just as the Peacekeeper was entering to collect her.

 

* * *

 

A little while later, Katniss scowled as she waited for Prim to finish saying her goodbyes to Gale. She considered trying to bully Darius into letting her back into Gale's room for a proper parting, but she doubted it would work. Friends and family had one opportunity to say goodbye to the loved ones that had been chosen as tributes. No more.

She was still seething over how that time had ended. It would have been better to just sit with him in silence the whole time, Katniss thought. Look where the conversation had left them.

There was an instinctual part of herself, an unforgiving part bent on survival, that had to acknowledge that the upcoming separation of her and Gale would be easier if their interactions ended on this unpleasant note. It wasn't right, and it didn't do him or their friendship justice, but there was no justice to be had in Panem.

Katniss didn't want to face the failure he'd consigned her to. Or the reckless energy that came off of him in waves. It made her nervous that he would do something to get himself killed all the sooner. Maybe it was wise to allow a rift between them, to ease the agony when he was ripped from their lives once and for all. They were all powerless to make this situation anything but tragic.

A tentative, somewhat tremulous, "Hi Katniss," came from behind her, and she turned, annoyed with the disruption to her dark thoughts.

This she did not expect. Peeta Mellark stood before her clutching two cookies from the package he'd brought to Delly. Though he easily dwarfed her frame, Peeta stood there nervously, almost abashed to be bothering her. Katniss suspected he had been crying, as his voice sounded rough and his eyelids were suffused with pink.

"I'm so sorry about Gale," he rasped before clearing his throat, trying to master his voice. His expression conveyed true grief. "But I'm happy you two are safe," he said, nodding to Prim as she exited Gale's room and sidled up to Katniss. His pained smile looked more like a grimace.

Katniss shifted uncomfortably and gave an awkward nod of acknowledgement. Any person with a basic understanding of social nicety would return his sentiment, but with Peeta Mellark, it seemed too much to divulge. She truly was relieved that Peeta's name had not been called, though she was no less devastated that Gale's had. Katniss felt, irrationally, that the unexpected truth in that admission would leave her vulnerable.

Thankfully, Prim graciously responded for her. Peeta cleared his throat again, and glanced briefly around the room before his eyes rose to meet hers again.

"I'm sorry it happened this way, that it was someone close to you that you cared for."

"He's my hunting partner," Katniss corrected dismissively, trying to block out the anguish his words engendered. She needed to get out of this building for so many reasons.

But Peeta saw through her instantly. "Delly and I are old friends too," he said. A moment later, a memory or the reality of the situation must have struck him, because his expression fell and two fat tears dropped onto his overheated cheeks. Despite that, the corner of his mouth inexplicably lifted into the barest hint of a smile. "She made me promise to talk to you today before I left," he said, glancing up at her almost shyly.

Katniss had no clue how to respond to that. Why would Delly, a girl she had rarely spoken to, single her out? She looked to Prim for help, but Prim just looked curiously at Peeta, speculation in her blue eyes.

Getting nowhere in a one-sided conversation, Peeta gently nudged a cookie into each of their palms. "Here." Katniss was too wrapped up in a haze of awkward confusion to decline before Prim beamed and thanked him.

Katniss bit her lip, the tear tracks that were still visible on his cheeks catching her eye. She couldn't bring herself to refuse his offering. Peeta smiled apologetically, as if he understood how thoroughly uncomfortable the whole encounter had been for her. Then he turned and walked away, running a hand across his face as he exited the room.

Looking away from the departure of the puzzling baker's son, Katniss turned to Prim. Sorrow had descended on her face again. Katniss reached out to stroke Prim's cheek softly in a gesture of comfort. She was thankful that their odd conversation with Peeta had distracted Prim, even for just a moment. It was her first reaping, and they would all stagger under the weight of Gale's absence in the coming months, not to mention the grief that would find them all too soon once the Games began.

Katniss could barely fathom what Gale's loss would do to her in the coming days, but she knew she could hang on as long as Prim stayed herself, brimming with the wonder and sweetness that Katniss cherished.

"Come on Little Duck. Let's go home."


	2. Dawn, Dusk, Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own The Hunger Games. Many thanks to the The RPGenius for his amazing editing, and everyone who has returned to continue reading. :)

 

 _“Another dreamer steps onto the stage._  
_He sings his hope and his fear and his rage._  
 _As the applause from the crowd starts to fade,_  
 _He hears them swallow the key to his cage.”_

_\- “Cage on the Ground,” Flyleaf_

 

Unsurprisingly, Prim had several nightmares in the nights that followed the reaping. Katniss tried to comfort her, tried to stay brave and positive, but it was hard to pretend when she felt so numb. Somehow, though the helplessness of the situation held fast, the reality of it still hadn’t hit her.

Maybe things would seem more real once she saw Gale on screen again, Katniss reasoned. The semblance he’d presented at the opening ceremonies had been unsettling and left her with a vague sense of impending dread. Tonight, the tributes’ scores would be announced, and the day after tomorrow she’d be able to see him live in his interview.

Dutifully, she’d dragged herself out of bed not long ago, her body unused to the earlier hunting hours. With seven people to provide for, Katniss needed larger hauls each day. With the Peacekeepers’ random checks on families during the Games, though, she had to reduce her time in the woods drastically.

Normally, she’d be itching to get back to the one place she felt like a complete person, but Gale’s absence drained away any joy she might have taken in her surroundings. Paired with the importance of the task before her and the unlikelihood of its achievement, Katniss was left feeling bereft of hope. The past few days, she’d been listless and adrift, going through the motions with no feeling. But as she stepped out the door and into the predawn light this morning, the sight before her left Katniss puzzled, then mildly amused. It was a welcome respite.

Initially, she’d thought a raccoon was poking around the Hawthorne’s porch – there was certainly enough of a racket. But then Katniss saw the bulk of Peeta’s form, recognizing the line of his shoulders and the tousled mop of his hair even in the sparse morning light.

She hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, and certainly not in this scenario. By the looks of it, he was attempting, and failing, to be stealthy. For a second, she wondered incredulously if he was trying to break in.

Then Katniss noticed the platter wrapped in cloth that was resting in Peeta’s hands as he crept up to the door. It was common for the families of tributes to receive gifts of condolence during the games. Merchants would present carefully prepared dishes to the unfortunate families in town. Seam families offered whatever supplies or food they could spare to the neighbors whose child had been unlucky enough to take out one too many tesserae. Usually, the gifts were given in the evening in a vain attempt to help bolster the family through the prime time viewing of the night. Those were the hours in which a tribute was most likely to die.

Even in the Seam, where charity was synonymous with weakness, these gifts were accepted graciously, as a funerary gesture of mutual grief.

The thing was, Katniss had never heard of a merchant giving one of these gifts to a Seam family. Just like no Seam family would give one to a merchant, even if there was extra to go around. The ritual, identical in meaning between the Town and the Seam, was just kept…separate.

Which explained why Peeta was sneaking around. Katniss knew that if a merchant tried to present _her_ with mouthwatering, fresh baked goods, ones she couldn’t normally afford, while she was grieving and wanted to be left alone, she’d probably upend the plate in the person’s face. Even if they meant well. And Peeta apparently did, considering his effort to keep the gift anonymous - not that it took a large stretch of imagination to figure out which District Twelve family would supply the baked goods. Still, it seemed Peeta rightly suspected the offering might be taken the wrong way were he to present it in person.

She should be irked that Peeta was nosing his way into tragedy surrounding her family again, regardless that there was no actual relation between the Everdeens and Hawthornes. Giving them food she couldn’t provide should rankle because, though Peeta didn’t know it, _she_ was supposed to be the one supplying food to them now. Being indebted to the boy with the bread even more was the last thing she needed.

Somehow, though, there was just enough separation in her mind between Gale’s family and her own, and just enough desperation on her end, to prevent any ire. The situation only left her feeling mildly annoyed at Peeta’s presumption. And yes, relieved that they’d eat well for a few days while she figured out how to exponentially increase her kills.

After Peeta located each creaky board on the Hawthorne’s porch, overturned a metal pail, and accidentally stepped on Buttercup (whose reason for sitting there in the dark could only be motivated by preternatural knowledge that there would be a clumsy merchant boy to terrify, Katniss thought with glee), she was shocked to see him start toward _her_ house in the pre-dawn light.

Katniss saw the messy bundle under his arm as Peeta reached the steps to her house, still completely unaware of her presence. Peeta paused and rearranged a few of the stalks. Standing silently by the door, she studied him.

They were practically two different species - she, who’d tracked his every movement from the moment she alighted on her doorstep, and he, who still had no inkling he was being watched by someone a mere four feet away, standing right on top of his next destination. Katniss bit back a smile. There was no question of who would be predator, and who prey, had they indeed been different species.

Buttercup, appearing out of nowhere and no worse for the wear after Peeta’s oafish trodding, darted up the steps and twined himself between her legs. The uncharacteristic display of affection seemed calculated, as if to say, ’ _See? Humans should tread like_ this _one._ ’ Katniss wasn’t sure if Buttercup had conveyed his message, but he’d certainly gotten the boy’s attention. Peeta’s eyes followed the cat’s progress up the steps and continued, disbelieving, up Katniss’s form until he reached her eyes, her presence finally known.

He froze, realizing exactly who watched him in the darkness. Peeta forced himself not to look back to the Hawthorne’s porch where his sympathetic offering lay. Had she seen? Determined to complete the task he’d undertaken despite the change in circumstance, Peeta wordlessly held out the bundle in his hands. He seemed hesitant and cautious, his hand extending in her direction slowly.

Recognizing with relief that it wasn’t food, Katniss took the proffered bundle simply to identify what he’d been carrying. It was a scraggly bunch of wild onion stems. Most were still in the flowering stage, with little pink and white blossoms, and they were still dewy from the night. He must have crouched in the dimness, balancing the plate of food while he picked them in the nearby meadow. Why would he bother doing something so pointless? Katniss’s brow lifted condescendingly before she looked back up at him.

“What’s this?”

His hesitance was so palpable, she could almost hear it.

“It’s for you,” he whispered in the stillness.

“What’s it _for_?” she pressed, harder. She had hunting to do, and Katniss suspected the offering itself and the reason for it was ridiculous.

“I- I was just going to leave it for you… to find… so you’d know someone was thinking of you, and wishing you didn’t get hurt so much by the Games this year.”

Katniss stared down at the bundle again. At least it wasn’t food. Well, it _had_ been, before he’d yanked up the stems and left the most valuable parts behind. Somehow the fact that the offering was useless lessened her desire to reject it, like she would have done with the plate sitting on the Hawthorne‘s doorstep.

“Why not give it to me in person?”

Peeta shrugged. “I guess the idea was that _someone_ is thinking of you, more than one specific person.”

Katniss’ face crinkled in confusion and annoyance. It was too early for word games. “That’s the same thing.” Was he trying to make a fool of her, talking nonsense and presenting her, a Seam girl, with flowers? He was a merchant after all, but he didn’t seem the type to find pleasure in toying with people.

Peeta frowned. “I’m explaining myself poorly.” He gestured to the wild onions. “The flowers were supposed to let you know that there are people in District Twelve who care. That maybe you’re not as alone in all this as you think.” Peeta took a breath and gathered his thoughts. “It was supposed to symbolize comfort and support from the district in general, instead of just being from one person to another.”

Katniss stared back at him blankly. She felt certain that District Twelve, as a whole, didn’t really care if she felt comforted or supported. She was also fairly sure that she wouldn’t have gotten any of those messages had she found the tattered bouquet of weeds on her doorstep. Truthfully, she probably would have stepped over it and continued on her way.

“Why not give it to the Hawthornes?” she asked, eyebrow arching again.

Peeta bit his lip, now fully aware that she’d seen him deliver the plate of buns earlier. He shrugged one shoulder and said nothing. The expression on his face, just discernible in the gathering light, puzzled her. At first it looked expectant, but then Katniss decided his expression held more patience, perhaps with a hint of amusement, than anything else. His eyes, such an unclouded blue, appeared colorless in this light. As though he had Seam eyes, like her.

To alleviate the awkwardness of his continued regard, Katniss stared down at the plants she held and felt her patience rapidly dissipating. How was she supposed to get rid of him? Was he waiting for her to thank him?

“Thank you” implied a favor had been given and now one was owed. _Not_ happening. And why should she thank someone for accosting her so early in the morning and keeping her from the forest? She’d needed that early start to make sure the people she loved got fed, before she’d known that they’d have bakery buns to fall back on.

But maybe, if she said thank you for something she didn’t need and certainly didn’t want, it could count as the long overdue thank you for the bread she wouldn’t have survived without. Saying it under the guise of gratitude for the flowers was infinitely easier than needing to explain the context of five years past.

The quandary surrounding the boy with the bread and her unspoken gratitude was sufficient to distract her from his parting. Caught up in her indecision and discomfort, she didn’t register his, “Well then, I’ll see you around,” until he was already turning to go. He lifted his hand in a short, awkward little wave as he stepped back on the road that led back to the town square.

Flustered, Katniss opened her mouth, ready to force the words, but the distance stopped her. She couldn’t call them out. She couldn’t have them ringing in the morning air. It felt as though every window in the Seam would fly up as inquisitive, accusing faces peered out, judging her for saying it so late, thinking her weak for accepting Merchant charity.

As a result, Katniss’s entire morning hunt was spent with words of gratitude on her tongue and the intended recipient on her mind. She wondered how he could see so much in a pile of flowers, or have so much to convey to a Seam girl he didn’t even know.

 

* * *

 

Gale was ruining everything. He had been so forbidding and impressive in the chariot during the Opening Ceremonies, and his good looks easily outstripped every other tribute this year. The air of mysteriousness and stoicism about him sent the Capitol females into fits, judging by the resulting reruns and commentary in the days after. Games commentators had even given him a moniker, calling him “Boy on Fire.“ Combined with his physical presence, he’d had a great chance at sponsors.

The flames had been perfect for him. Katniss couldn’t think of a single person with more fire smoldering inside them than Gale. Seeing it around him…he had looked incandescent with enmity and conviction. At the time, she realized she was seeing him in a whole new way. It had worried her. And rightly so.

That first night of the televised events, Katniss had watched the chariot ride with the Hawthornes, trying to lend strength to the broken family. She certainly hadn’t provided much else, definitely not a substantial dinner, as she’d had a pitiful haul. Luckily, the small gifts from other families were still holding them over.

But after seeing the look on his face as he was paraded around the City Circle, Katniss knew she couldn’t watch the interviews with them tonight. She had a terrible feeling that Gale was going say something to throw away the impression he’d made, negate the stylists’ efforts, and nullify the score of 9 he’d received two days ago.

Since the Opening Ceremonies, Hazelle had been a little less wooden in her movements. Posy had only a limited understanding of the circumstances, but she picked up on her mother’s elevated mood. Vick foolishly crowed that Gale couldn’t lose, at this rate. And real hope had just been re-entering Rory’s eyes.

That hope, rare and fleeting, was about to be crushed, Katniss was certain of it. She didn’t want to witness the realization that their brother and son would never return. Any hint of protest on his part, no matter how futile, would cause Gale’s life to be snuffed out in the arena by the most violent and least dignified means possible. He’d made it clear that he had nothing left to lose in the Justice Building, but did his family? What would they think, when they saw he wasn‘t willing to play along for the chance to come back to them?

On the night her best friend would likely do something reckless and seal his fate as a target for the Gamemakers, Katniss didn’t want to be near anyone familiar. She didn’t want to be touched, she didn’t want to exist as herself. She just wanted to be a random body of which nothing was expected. Nobody depending on her back at home. Nobody leaving her behind to face it all alone.

So for the first time, she watched from the square. A part of her hoped that being in public would distract her from the interminable wait before his interview, the last of the night. Knowing there was an audience around her might even prevent her from panicking if he _did_ say something irreparable.

And it did serve as a distraction. Katniss watched dispassionately through the other interviews, rolling her eyes when a Career pandered to the audience, and looking at the people who’d come to the square when she couldn’t bear to look at the fear in everyone else’s eyes. Or little Rue’s sweet face.

Peeta was in the crowd. She glanced at the back of his head often, especially during Delly’s time on stage. His shoulders slumped when Delly said she missed all the beautiful things District Twelve had to offer. That gave Katniss pause. Beauty in their coal-dusted prison? Perhaps Peeta knew what Delly had been talking about, because she certainly didn’t.

On stage, Delly seemed nice but too commonplace. Understandably, the warmth she usually exuded didn’t reach her eyes. The interview had been unremarkable overall, which had to be a blow to Peeta. It did not bode well for Delly’s odds in the arena.

Then Gale came on. He looked better than ever and seemed pleasantly at-ease. Yet not at all like the Gale she knew. Katniss started nervously fiddling with the end of her braid. Charm oozed from his pores as he blinded the Capitolites in the studio and viewers across Panem with a smile, the likes of which Katniss had never seen. There certainly hadn’t been cause for that sort of exuberance in Twelve. Katniss hadn’t even known Gale _could_ smile like that.

Caesar made a witty, meaningless quip as Gale sat down in the interview chair, and the tribute’s resulting laugh boomed out over the sound of lingering applause welcoming him on stage. He lounged back in the chair as if he owned it. When Caesar formally welcomed him to the Capitol, he merely dipped his head in acceptance of the hospitable words.

“That was quite an entrance you made at the tribute’s parade,” Caesar prompted.

“Wait ‘til you see my exit,” Gale deadpanned. Caesar barked out an impressed laugh. “Confident you’ll win, I like that!” The audience cheered raucously at the host’s enthusiastic summation.

Katniss soon graduated from hair tugging to nail biting. Gale’s dark humor was sailing right over Caesar’s head. But just because the audience was giddily leaning forward in their seats, unaware of Gale’s mockery, didn’t mean it escaped the notice of the Gamemakers and other powerful, unseen spectators.

“I take it you’re not going out without a fight?”

“Like you’ve never seen,” Gale confirmed. The curl of his lip resembled a sneer too closely for comfort. Three minutes had never felt so long, and the interview had barely begun. Katniss felt like he was seconds away from denouncing the Capitol outright.

With a winning grin and a sparkle in his eye, Caesar continued, “Now let’s not get ahead of ourselves! Tell us about your time here. What do you think of the Capitol, now that you’ve seen it?”

Caesar asked many tributes some form of this question in their interview, but Katniss couldn’t think of a worse opening for Gale to be given. She gave up breathing, she was far too terrified to force her lungs to draw air. A gleam came into Gale’s eyes, and Katniss knew he recognized the opportunity presented in that question.

“It’s different. I’ve never seen so much food. In fact, I don’t think my entire District has. The only thing in short supply is moderation,” he said with a winsome smile.

Caesar opened his mouth to change the subject, but Gale just kept talking. Katniss could see the flames kindling in his eyes.

“And the fashions! Something’s always going out of style. Things like industry. See, we’re so backwards in the districts, Caesar. We spend our lives struggling to produce things of worth for Panem. And none of it makes life better, not even a little bit. But here in the Capitol, you’ve all got life figured out.”

Katniss was shocked he’d been allowed to say even that much, but she suspected people were a little confused, since all of Gale’s statements incorporated language that sounded somewhat complimentary. His contradictions appeared to be working. Those in the square were hanging on his every word, but the audience on screen didn’t seem to know whether to preen or be offended.

Caesar’s answering smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, it seems we’ve certainly made an impression on you. Now how about we-”

“But there’s so much I still don’t know!” Gale interrupted, talking over him. The false enthusiasm in his voice drowned out even Caesar. “For instance, what is it exactly that the Capitol produces? What services does it offer? What actual aid does it give?” Gale had been staring out at the audience confidently during each question, but he suddenly turned to look expectantly at the man seated to his right. “Maybe you can tell us, Caesar!”

For just a second, Caesar, the consummate host, froze comically, taken completely unawares by an unanswerable and utterly damning question. And for that brief time, Katniss swore she could see a spark of terror in his eyes; he knew he was trapped.

To see that look on the friendly face of the Games, a man renowned for his turn of phrase and comfort in the spotlight, was heady indeed. Katniss was torn between horror at what Gale was getting himself into, and giddy pride that her best friend’s ability to outmaneuver and strategize had backed Flickerman into a corner before the whole nation.

Caesar mustered his considerable showmanship and performing faculties after only a moment, rejoining, “Why, it produces entertainment, of course! It brings art and culture into the lives of everyone in Panem!” But it was too little, too late. His difficulty in answering Gale’s blunt, simple question only proved Gale’s accusations: the Capitol had nothing to offer its citizens, beyond oppression.

Caesar had effectively echoed that in his answer, as well. If the Capitol was in the business of entertainment, that made the Hunger Games its chief export. And everyone knew it was a broadcast aimed at bringing fear and death into the homes of every family in the nation, not artistry.

She could practically feel the anger at this reminder sinking in across Panem, intruding upon the fear and resignation the Games were supposed to inspire in its viewers. Katniss was shocked they hadn’t turned Gale’s microphone off, except it was technically _Caesar_ who had said the latest dangerous statement. Gale had only baited him into doing so. The people running the show probably didn’t believe an eighteen-year-old from _Twelve_ could intentionally turn Caesar into a mouthpiece.

There was an air of triumph about Gale. From all their time in the forest, Katniss knew he now felt confident enough to go in for the kill. Once on the attack, he would run his quarry into the ground with singular ferocity. All the comfortable, complacent Capitolites who weren’t prepared for outright dissent would be blindsided. Such a thing certainly wasn’t expected during the Games, when districts were meant to display absolute subservience and docility.

Katniss had never even _seen_ open defiance. Not in Twelve, and definitely not on screen. Overt protest was unheard of outside the hushed fables of the Dark Days, whispered about behind closed doors. He would never be allowed to get away with this.

She let out a small cry of dismay, then clamped a hand over her mouth, determined not to do anything to distract from the last time she would ever see Gale.

And sure enough, when Gale opened his mouth, his words had gained in volume and momentum.

“Each district has exports essential to the Capitol’s overindulgence. All the bounty here has been provided by _you_ , every one of you watching from the districts! And to so few!

“ _We_ have the resources, the power, the numbers, the technology! We supply them with it! And they just hoard it, guarding it jealously from those that need it, those that deserve it, those that have _earned_ it!”

At that moment, they cut his microphone. The portion of the crowd visible on screen near the stage was gasping in shock and looking at Gale as though he had personally betrayed each of them. But he refused to stop, tearing the microphone off the lapel of his fiery suit coat and shouting his impassioned words over the crowd to the cameras. His cry of defiance rang out, rising above the tumult like birdsong.

“We’ve permitted it by the consent of our silence! Allowed it with our willful surrender of knowledge! Welcomed it by opening our homes and lives to their surveillance! Perpetuated it by swallowing their censorship and parroting their propaganda! And encouraged it by readily sacrificing our children!”

Peacekeepers were rushing the stage, no longer frozen in shock. Katniss held her breath in terror. They were going to seize him, hurt him, drag him from the platform. And still the words poured from him, faster and faster as he hurried to communicate before he was silenced.

“There is only one commodity that is absolutely essential to the Capitol’s control, and every citizen in Panem provides it to them, daily, for free: our fear! Without it, they’re nothing!”

The Peacekeepers had reached him by now, and they were grappling with his arms as he struggled. One of them fumbled with something, undoubtedly a device designed to subdue a target. Caesar, who had retreated to the side of the stage, was apoplectic, throwing his microphone down and shouting unhelpful instructions to the Peacekeepers. And all the while, Gale continued his speech unceasingly.

“Don’t surrender it to them! We’ve paid our unjust penance long enough! We have the strength, the determination, and the right to take our livelihoods and our safety back! Dissolve the Treaty of Trea-”

The screen went black as the entire transmission was cut short.

Everyone in the square stood in shocked silence. Katniss had never seen the Capitol resort to ending a broadcast like that. Gale was doomed, it was all over before the Games had even begun. Her entire body started to tremble as she realized he was probably being executed at that very moment. So many had been killed for far less.

Then everyone began talking at once. The people around her vacillated between dismay at Gale’s brash disregard for his fate, and exclamations of agreement at his summation of Panem. Many were angry that he was making District Twelve look bad, worried everyone would be culpable for his actions. Others were disgusted that he had blown his chances in the Games. Some seemed energized and inflamed by the truth of his statements.

Individuals in the crowd grew bold and echoed his words, trying to rouse people’s sense of injustice like Gale had their own. Arguments and animated discussions about his assertions broke out as well, but many people just started to push through the crowd to get home as quickly as possible, not wanting to be implicated when Peacekeepers inevitably began to break up the growing disturbance.

Katniss had never seen people in Twelve being so vocal about their thoughts. But no one seemed to be expressing worry about what might be happening to Gale. While the crowd seethed around her, she stood frozen as she considered the fate of her friend and hunting partner.

She was still shaking head to toe, rooted to the spot. At some point, Katniss realized Peeta was standing at her side. He inexplicably remained there, a quiet, unmoving sentinel, buffering her from the jostling of the crowd as she slowly taught herself to breathe again and quelled her trembling.

When she‘d calmed enough to take a deep breath and look up at him, Peeta merely said, “Let’s get you home to Prim. I don’t think you want to be here.”

Katniss couldn’t pretend she wasn’t relieved by his presence. With portions of the crowd lingering in the square and then electricity of dissent hanging in the air, things could easily turn ugly.

Peeta turned and pushed through the crowd before her. She knew she was meant to follow him, and she trudged forward almost unseeingly. Still haunted by Gale’s words and actions, the most Katniss could manage was to focus on the blue of Peeta’s shirt, and she followed it out of the square.

Perhaps they wouldn’t kill Gale straight away, she reasoned as she walked. The Gamemakers would want to draw it out, and make an example of him to reestablish their superiority. They might spare him this evening, only to make him pay for his words publicly and painfully in the arena. Then all of Panem would see.

Peeta navigated through the masses milling toward home and around clusters of incensed viewers echoing Gale’s statements with raised voices. He continued walking just ahead of her until they reached the edge of the Merchant Quarter, where the road continued on to the Seam. He stopped and turned to her. In the moonlight, Katniss could see that Peeta’s face looked tired and sad, but his eyes shimmered with concern.

He didn’t probe her to speak or ask if she was “alright.” They both knew she wasn’t. Peeta couldn’t be doing very well either. Katniss was just grateful he wasn’t expecting her to put her thoughts into words. She didn’t think she could manage it just now.

It seemed Peeta understood. He was rooting for Delly as she was for Gale. And though the two tributes from Twelve couldn’t have had more dissimilar interviews, both she and Peeta had to cope with the knowledge that tonight’s proceedings brought their friends closer to a terrible end.

Katniss looked down the road that led into the Seam. It was time to face reality and figure out what tonight‘s events meant for the Hawthorne family‘s survival.

She ought to be with them now. She had to do her best for Gale’s family in the aftermath. Any connection she felt to Peeta at the moment was inconsequential.

Katniss moved in the direction of the Seam, and Peeta did nothing to delay to her, murmuring a quiet “Goodnight,” before he turned back toward town.

When the lit windows of the Hawthorne residence came into view, Katniss tried to gather herself. She was dismayed by Gale’s actions, but she was a little proud too. Would his family feel the same, now that he’d dashed any hopes they had for his return?

Looking out for them would be a taller order now than ever, she realized. The Hawthornes would probably be shunned by many in Twelve. People wouldn’t want to be associated with the young man who’d all but invited Capitol retribution. There may even be increased Peacekeeper scrutiny of the Hawthornes in the future, now that the eldest son was one of the most vocal opponents to the status quo, at least in living memory.

Katniss grew furious. How would she sneak Hazelle contraband game if they were constantly surveilled? How could Gale be so foolish as to invite Capitol wrath upon everyone associated with him?

It was a struggle to reconcile the competing emotions swirling through her. The one thing that came to the fore was a weary, bone-deep exhaustion. Though she had no idea how to proceed from here, letting herself get worked up wouldn’t do any good. If she wanted to help the Hawthornes, she’d have to stay levelheaded.

Katniss took a couple of deep breaths, inhaling the early summer air. She looked at the moon, and heard the rustle of the trees beyond the fence. She could smell rain coming and feel the cool of the night. It calmed her somewhat.

She couldn’t help but think that if Gale was still alive, he wouldn’t be able to sense these things, now or ever again. They had been stolen from him, but he hadn’t fought to get them back either. Her heart ached to realize his remaining experiences could only be of Capitol design.

There would be no cricket song there, nor the occasional bird call in the night. The electric lights wouldn’t give off the same warm glow that flickered in Seam windows. They might have the same stars, but not the same wispy gray clouds drifting beneath. Her mind darted to the silver-threaded moonlight she’d seen in curls golden by day. The Capitol had no similar sights to offer. Delly may not have been totally wrong about District Twelve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Shoot me a review and let me know what you think! I am ghtlovesthg on tumblr. :D


	3. Abduction and Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I do not own The Hunger Games. Many thanks to The RPGenius for editing prowess, and all the returning readers. :)

_"There is no grief like the grief that does not speak."_

_\- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_

Katniss's eyes snapped open. Sleep still clouded her mind, but she could feel a gnawing, disconcerting sensation running through her body. Something was terribly wrong.

Blinding light shone through the window, falling over her legs. She hesitated for a moment, staring at it. It was unnatural, too stark and white to be the dawn. Cold dread seeped through her as she looked up at the window from her bed. It was far too bright to see anything.

Suddenly, the light silently swept away, plunging the room in heavy darkness again. It was still the middle of the night.

Panic seized her as she realized Prim's small form wasn't snuggled against her own. Katniss calmed as she remembered that Prim had chosen to sleep with their mother. Returning from the square, she had seen Prim exiting the Hawthorne's as she'd approached. There were tear tracks running down her face, but Prim bravely informed Katniss that they'd all watched the broadcast together and the Hawthornes needed some time alone. When they both returned home themselves, Prim had sweetly tried to give her the space she needed.

Recalling what took place only hours ago, Katniss frantically staggered to her feet and fumbled for her boots. Her instincts were telling her those lights couldn't be good. What if President Snow was retaliating against Twelve, for what Gale had said? But it was so quiet. She rushed out the door to investigate in her tattered pajamas.

When Katniss stepped outside, she felt certain she was still dreaming. Prayed she was. Wind was whipping along the ground as lights swayed and shined above her. The night was blotted out by a colossal silver mass. Sleek and sinister, it lurked silently overhead, a predator so assured of its superiority that it had no need for cover. It had been years since she'd seen a Capitol hovercraft, and now there was one hovering over Gale's house.

Just the other day, she'd stood unnoticed in the very same spot, witnessing an entirely different scene unfold at the Hawthorne's residence. But the nature of the events that morning couldn't be more different than they were now.

As Katniss watched, Peacekeepers emerged from the front door, their stark white uniforms flanking something darker. As they trundled down the steps and into the light generated by the hovercraft, Katniss saw it was Rory between them - tall for his age, but lanky. He was still disoriented from sleep, but he clearly comprehended the terror of the surreal events he had woken to.

Weeping, Hazelle frantically followed them out of the house, only to be restrained by a third Peacekeeper who appeared behind her. The mother dissolved into helpless sobs, crumpling to the uneven wooden boards and shadows on the porch. The Peacekeeper crouched at her side, holding her firmly back.

A fourth sauntered out, and this man's uniform indicated a much higher rank than the three preceding him, higher even than old Cray's. He blithely stepped over Hazelle's hunched form and observed the first two Peacekeepers on the lawn. A ladder lowered from the hovercraft.

Katniss's heart leapt into her throat. They were going to take Rory. She'd seen a person kidnapped by hovercraft before, and it haunted her to this day. She'd never forgotten the red haired girl fleeing through the forest, or the fact that she'd been too terrified to do anything but watch. Katniss couldn't stand by helplessly again.

She rushed down her steps as the ladder stretched to the ground. As she ran past the houses between hers and Gale's, the Peacekeepers forced Rory's hand onto the bottom rung and grasped the sides of the ladder above themselves, bracing for ascent.

What could she even do? Katniss had no idea, and she was almost to the hellish halo of light beneath the hovercraft. No one had noticed her approach yet. Hazelle moved suddenly, breaking free from the Peacekeeper's arms and knocking his helmet off in the process. She tried to go to her son, but the lead Peacekeeper ahead of her turned and had his high-powered firearm pointed at Hazelle's forehead before she'd taken three steps.

Katniss froze where she stood, horrified. If she was noticed, or made any move to help Rory, surely Hazelle would be shot.

The lead Peacekeeper curled his lip at the Hawthorne matron before addressing the subordinate who had failed to restrain her. "Control your charge, or I will shoot her where she stands."

"Yes sir," choked out the lower-ranking Peacekeeper, as he rushed forward into the light to secure Hazelle again. Katniss was surprised to realize that the Peacekeeper tightly clutching Hazelle's distraught form was Darius, now recognizable without his helmet. The other man turned back to check on their captive.

At that moment, Rory and the two other Peacekeepers began their unearthly climb, frozen by some force within the hovercraft. For an instant, Rory's eyes caught and held hers, and Katniss could see that confusion had finally given way to panic in his gray eyes. He was unreachable in seconds, his form continuing its inexorable progress up toward the craft.

Katniss looked back to Hazelle and Darius caught her eye. Apparently he had seen her standing there in the darkness. Darius stared straight at her, eyes widened in fear and warning. He gave a subtle but speaking shake of his head, telling her that there was nothing she could do, and trying something would only make things worse.

Rory had reached the bottom of the hovercraft by now, and he quickly disappeared from sight. Katniss closed her eyes in horror.

The ladder descended yet again, and the lead Peacekeeper stepped toward it. In danger of being seen, Katniss stepped back further into the shadows, ever grateful for her ability to move silently.

The man removed a communication device from his belt. It crackled before Katniss heard him confirm in a crisp, pleased voice, "Peacekeeper Thread reporting. Replacement secured."

* * *

Gale was dead.

He must be, because who else could the younger Hawthorne boy be expected to replace? There was exactly one scenario Katniss could envision that would necessitate a stealthy abduction on the eve of the Games. It involved Rory disappearing from District 12 in the dead of night, only to show up mid-morning halfway across Panem, on a platform wired with explosives. It was too awful to contemplate, but what other explanation could there be?

Again, she'd been an unseen witness to the atrocities of the Capitol. Before, she'd stood idly by while a boy died, the sound of his companion's unanswered pleas for mercy and freedom ringing out in the forest. This time, the entire ordeal had been conducted with barely a sound.

Had anyone else seen? No lights came on in the surrounding houses, and no doors or windows creaked open. Perhaps everyone was too afraid to reveal their presence. Katniss didn't want to believe it possible that Rory had been abducted from Twelve without anyone noticing besides the Hawthornes, Darius, and herself.

Once the hovercraft shimmered out of sight, Darius had released Hazelle and backed away with stilted movements. He'd clearly been shaken, his face grim and eyes guilt-ridden. Nothing like the jocular, friendly Darius Katniss knew. After he'd quickly stalked off, she made her way to the decimated mother.

Katniss wrapped her arms around the Hawthorne matriarch, who had crumpled to the ground when her son disappeared. There was absolutely no comfort to give, but she felt the need to offer some semblance of it just the same, more for herself than anything.

Hazelle's wracking sobs shook her arms as Katniss sat and stared into the black Seam night. She felt nothing; there was only numbness. Her best friend was dead or worse, and his younger brother was about to die too.

When the cool night air eventually registered in her stunned mind, Katniss grasped Hazelle's arms and helped her back into the house with slow, unsteady steps. She had no idea how long they might have been huddled together outside.

They made it to the kitchen, where Katniss helped Hazelle into a chair by the table, taking the adjacent seat herself. There was a pained, faraway look on her face and Katniss worried that the grief might reduce Hazelle to unresponsiveness, as it had with her mother.

Sitting there, Katniss noticed something odd on the table. There was a single, perfect white rosebud, clipped in its youth before the blossom had opened. It rested atop a note, written in curling, precise script. The parchment was weighty and expensive, and Katniss pulled the note closer to the light and read it aloud.

"The truth, like a rose, must be carefully cultivated. Without proper clipping, exchanging it with others only causes injury, for there are many thorns hiding beneath the petals."

Her brow furrowed. It wasn't signed, but something of this quality clearly wasn't from District Twelve. While it seemed like an odd thing for a Peacekeeper to leave, it was a well-known fact that President Snow always wore white roses upon his lapel. She'd seen one only days ago at the opening ceremony.

Katniss dropped the paper as if she'd been burned. Would the President really go out of his way to torment _Hazelle_? Gale's speech must be of concern to him; had it been significant enough for him to step in and get involved with Games proceedings?

If so, it was possible that President Snow had a direct hand in Rory's abduction to the Capitol, not just a Gamemaker. And now there was a prettily worded threat sitting on the table. The writer was issuing a gag order in regards to Rory's disappearance, and his bargaining chip was the safety and wellbeing of Hazelle and her children.

At the thought of Vick and Posy, Katniss looked at the house's two bedroom doors. The room Hazelle and Posy shared had its door closed, but the doorway to the boys' room stood slightly ajar.

The breath in Katniss's lungs left her. Of course Vick would have witnessed the whole thing, all the Hawthorne boys shared a sleeping space. Getting up, she softly approached the room, not wanting to startle Vick. But when she got close, the door was closed from inside with a resounding bang. The sound echoed through the house.

She felt a deep pang of remorse. Vick was clearly terrified. Turning, Katniss eased the door open and looked in on Posy. Miraculously, the tiny girl was still and peaceful in uninterrupted slumber. She spent a moment drinking in the sight of the Hawthorne features unmarred by grief and pain. How long could that last? What would they tell Posy come morning?

Quietly closing the door, Katniss reentered the kitchen. By now, Hazelle was staring at the rosebud and note, as if they were a snake waiting to strike. Katniss stood there restlessly for a moment. There had to be something, no matter how small, she could do for Hazelle and Vick tonight.

She went to the coal stove and placed a dented kettle over the range. The only thing Katniss could offer them was the mercy of temporary unconsciousness, a brief physical reprieve from their trauma. Setting two tin cups on the table, she moved toward the door.

Hazelle's hand shot out, gripping Katniss's wrist with vice-like strength.

"You can't say _anything_ , not to _anyone_ ," she begged frantically, her voice on the verge of breaking. "They'll take my babies from me."

"I won't Hazelle, I swear," Katniss assured, voice gentle but firm. "I'll be right back, I'm just getting something from home."

Katniss crept back to her house moments later, and fetched some of the sleep syrup her mother kept on hand for patients. Katniss looked in on her mother and Prim, to reassure herself that they were safe. Neither of them had woken, it seemed, and Katniss thought it best to keep it that way. They'd find out all too soon.

Returning to the Hawthornes' house, Katniss removed the kettle from the stove and added a blend of dried leaves she and Gale regularly from the forest to the water, letting it steep. Once it was ready, she cautiously added two drops of sleeping syrup to Hazelle's cup, and set it before her.

As expected, the tea went untouched. Katniss sat down, and gently cajoled the shell-shocked woman to take small sips. Tears poured down Hazelle's face.

Setting the cup down, Hazelle lifted her gaze to Katniss. The pain in the Hawthorne matriarch's eyes was unfathomable. "There's no one I can go to, no one who would help us, even if they could," she rasped out. "This is the way of Panem."

Hazelle was right. They had been left all alone to face the unspeakable. _She_ had left them alone as well, retreating to the square to watch the footage, withdrawing into herself when she should have been there to give support, unhesitatingly. But she would be here from now on, she resolved, to help however she could. No more lapses, no more weakness.

"We're expected to just continue on as ever, toiling as if they haven't taken our hearts and souls," Hazelle spat bitterly. She stood and moved to the stove, slipping the Capitol note into the flickering coals. As soon as the flames caught the paper, she tossed the rosebud in as well. Then she sagged, her whole body wilting as the night's events washed over her again.

Katniss could tell the sleep syrup was starting to take effect. "I'll look after Vick and Posy, Hazelle. You sleep."

Hazelle reached out and brushed lye-roughened fingers over the back of her hand in thanks. Following her to the little bedroom where Posy slept, Katniss set the cup down by the bed in case Mrs. Hawthorne woke up and needed the relief of heavy sleep again. Hazelle tenderly gathered Posy in her arms and settled on the bed, stroking the wispy hair around her daughter's face as she drifted off into drug-induced sleep.

Katniss headed back to the kitchen and poured another cup of tea, adding one drop of the syrup instead of two. Hopefully Vick would let her in the room and have a little tea too. Approaching his door, she felt no resistance and quietly pushed it open.

Vick was huddled at the opposite corner of his pallet mattress. His eyes peered out into the hallway fearfully, as though there may be others behind her. He didn't protest her presence, and Katniss noticed the open window above his bed. He must have seen and heard everything.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, trying not to look at the empty mattresses where Gale and Rory used to sleep, Katniss extended the tin cup in his direction.

"I have some tea for you." She tried to speak as soothingly as she could. "It will help you sleep."

"I watched it," he croaked in response.

Katniss' heart stuttered at the guilt and shame she could see on his young face.

"I couldn't move, I was so scared," he wept. "I didn't do anything. And they took him."

Katniss shifted closer, wrapping her arms around his shaking form. "Vick, there was nothing you could have done. They would have hurt you if you tried to stop them."

He shook his head. "No! I didn't even _say_ anything to him before he was gone. I just froze, hoping they wouldn't take me too." He dissolved into heartbroken tears.

Katniss swept her hand over the crown of his head, stroking the mussed bangs off his sweaty forehead. What was there to say? She felt utterly useless. He would carry these recriminations forever, as would she.

"Vick, no one could fault you for what you did. Rory wouldn't want you to be hurt, and there was nothing you could have done."

He didn't respond, staring desolately at the floor.

"I just watched too," she admitted sadly. "And knowing I couldn't have stopped it doesn't help.

"You're not alone, though. Even Gale has done the same thing."

At the mention of his biggest brother, whom he worshipped, Vick looked back up. Katniss handed him the cup.

"We saw the Capitol take someone. In the forest, years ago. They called out for our help, but we didn't move."

Vick listened with wide eyes, sipping the tea.

"We both knew there was nothing we could have possibly done to stop that hovercraft. I think they knew, too. But that didn't stop us from feeling terrible about it. We never forgot.

"Vick, I don't know if we did the wrong thing that day, staying hidden. But I do know that staying out of sight meant we were able to come home, so Gale could take care of you all, and I could take care of Prim.

When you can't stop thinking about what you might have said or done, I need you to remember that Posy and your mom are going to need you, and you're here for them. Rory would want that. Gale would want that, too."

Katniss rested her hand on his shoulder, and Vick nodded through his tears. His eyelids had already begun to droop, so Katniss took the tin cup from his fingers and helped him get settled. He laid back down.

"What will happen to Rory?" he cried softly, fighting the drowsiness.

Katniss hesitated. How could she possibly tell Vick that Rory was most likely headed off to the Games in Gale's place? The arena was a terrifying spectre to anyone, no matter their age. Parents relied on the odds and the rules set forth by the Capitol to assure their children they were safe. But Rory had never even been Reaped.

Was he aware of how fatally damaging Gale's speech had been? Did Vick realize that one brother paid for the words of the other? Likely not. How could a child be expected to understand these things?

Katniss gave him the only answer she could. "I don't know, Vick."

By then, the boy was barely able to stay awake. As he drifted off, Katniss gave him the only assurance she could. "I'm going to stay right here all night. You're safe."

Sitting alone in the dark and quiet, in Gale's house, Katniss finally allowed herself to acknowledge his loss, and the impending loss of Rory. She didn't know where to begin. Katniss thought back to Reaping Day, how she'd tried to downplay Gale's importance to her when talking to Peeta, relegating him to the role of "hunting partner." Once upon a time, that had been the sum total of his place in her life. But his absence now showed her how completely integral he'd become, as a confidante and sounding board. A best friend. Someone she could trust.

Now he was gone, just like that. And no matter how tragic, how unjust Gale's reaping and fate was, it was so much worse that Rory should appear in the arena. He was so young, with none of Gale's hunting experience.

Speaking out had carried an immeasurable price. It _must_ have occurred to Gale that his family could be punished for his actions. Katniss just couldn't see how making the Capitol look foolish could ever be worth it. Not when she imagined it was Prim who would suffer for her.

Katniss sighed and traced the wood grain in the rough hewn table with her thumbnail. The truth was, she really couldn't imagine what Gale might have been thinking before that interview. She'd never been Reaped. She'd never been brought to the Capitol against her will and instructed how to kill.

Gale wasn't to blame for this. It was the Games, the Capitol. She _knew_ that. But looking at the situation before her, the decimated remnants of his family, it was hard not to resent him a little.

Dawn was beginning to break outside. Rory was probably nearing the Capitol, speeding toward a hostile landscape alone, with no training sessions or mentoring to help him. He didn't even have the benefit of a week's nourishment from Capitol food.

It was a small mercy, she supposed, that Gale would never know of Rory's fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! Hope you like it so far! Next chapter is up on Sunday, be sure to check in! I am ghtlovesthg on tumblr. :)


	4. Editing is Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I do not own The Hunger Games. Thanks to: Return readers! Everyone who reviewed! And of course, The RPGenius for editing!

 

_“The cruelest lies are often told in silence.”_

_\- Robert Louis Stevenson, Virginibus Puerisque and Other Papers_

  


Katniss strode to the Hob in fury later that morning. It was doubtful the person she sought would be there this early, but she wasn't leaving anything to chance. She was getting answers.

 

There’d been no indication that anyone witnessed last night’s happenings. If they had, they were keeping tight-lipped about it. Instead, the topic of everyone’s conversation was Gale’s shocking interview. There was a strange energy behind everyone’s discussions. They were hushed, but their words were animated. Fear was discernible on people’s faces, but she could also see excitement when they remembered his speech.

 

Katniss could hardly believe it had less than twenty-four hours since the interview. With everything that had happened since, it felt like days ago.

 

She sat down on a bench where people usually ate Greasy Sae’s stew and turned to watch one of the dilapidated television sets that had been set up. Vendors might be illegally gathering, and Peacekeepers may be illegally buying, but mandatory viewing infractions couldn’t be ignored, even in the Hob.

 

Katniss was counting on one of those Peacekeepers to show up today. Until then, she planned to study the pre-Game coverage and see if she could figure anything out about what had happened to Rory or Gale.

 

Mostly there were recaps of the interviews and opening ceremony. Nothing was mentioned about Gale’s interview, and certainly nothing was replayed from it. Katniss didn't see evidence of...anything. Would they make an announcement about the replacement soon? Or would they wait until the Games started?

 

Katniss couldn’t imagine either of those scenarios coming to pass. It would look extremely bad for the Gamemakers to switch a tribute, and such a thing was unheard of. But she knew she had distinctly heard that Peacekeeper call Rory a replacement.

 

Katniss tried to focus on the ongoing commentary. Mentors and escorts were always called upon to weigh in on their tributes during the games. Having reported to the Game Headquarters this morning as their tributes were shuttled to the arena, Haymitch and Effie would probably be appearing on the pre-Game coverage any time now. Perhaps their segments would provide a hint about recent developments.

 

Finally, a feature of the best all-time arena garb ended, and the host of the show started speaking to some mentors and escorts. By the time they reached District 12, Katniss was ready to pull her hair out. When Haymitch came on, he looked grim and intense. More so than usual.

 

Surprisingly, when he talked about the tributes, he lumped them together. No mentions of Gale _or_ Rory by name, but none of Delly specifically either. When the host tried to probe about Gale‘s stunning behavior the night before, Haymitch deftly deflected the question, emphasizing that both tributes would take their fiery tenacity into the arena.

 

The biggest indication that something was amiss came in the form of Effie. Known for her devotion to poise and composure, it was a shock to see her in such a state. She looked completely disheveled. Her ridiculous bouffant, which was supposed to resemble some exotic cat's mane, looked sadly deflated. Her eyes were the most telling, though.

 

Katniss knew that expression well. Effie Trinket looked like cornered prey, paralyzed with the knowledge that the end was quickly approaching.

 

Every time she was asked about Gale, who was far and away the hottest topic from the previous night, Effie would give a nervous giggle that was closer to a whimper, and insist that she was much more taken with sweet, polite, Delly.

 

Katniss shifted her attention to Ripper’s table when she saw Darius saunter up. He was early. All the Peacekeepers had to patrol the streets in preparation for the countdown at noon. She wasn’t surprised to see him buying liquor so early. He’d looked almost as horrified as her last night. While he finished the transaction, Katniss stole up behind him.

 

Darius turned away from Ripper's wares and jumped when he found Katniss' scowling form practically on top of him. She pulled him over to the table near Sae's and pushed him down on a bench, sitting down opposite.

 

“Answers,” she growled. “ _Now_.”

 

“Katniss, you know I can't disclose any official-”

 

She had anticipated reluctance. Reaching into her boot, Katniss pulled out Gale’s hunting knife and slammed it down into the table.

 

Darius just stared in shock at the scant inches between his fingers and the blade, which was vibrating slightly from the force of the impact.

 

“This was Gale's,” she intoned with deadly quiet, her voice trembling with anger and devastation.”For four years, he kept four other people alive with this knife and his brains.”

 

Revealing a contraband weapon to a Peacekeeper was never a good idea, but the Hob was a rough place, and Darius was looking at her so guiltily that she doubted there would be repercussions.

 

“Eight days ago, Gale gave this to me so I could protect his loved ones in his stead. And last night, you helped send one those people to the _Capitol_. Today, I'm going to find out why.”

 

Darius, an armed, Capitol-trained Peacekeeper, looked back at her with a haunted look in his eyes. Katniss suspected he was grappling with his inherent decency and the complicity demanded of him when it came to the Capitol's barbarism. The words started tumbling out of him in relief, and she marveled at the effect she could have with just a simple hunting knife and some impassioned words.

 

“I hardly know anything. I just know that a few hours after the interview last night, we were informed that a hovercraft was on its way. When it got here, the Lead Peacekeeper on board ordered we assist them in securing the next eldest Hawthorne boy.

 

“There were only two of us not already on patrol, so Purnia stayed and I was chosen to show them where they could find the Hawthornes. After his initial identification of the target, the Lead Peacekeepers referred to Rory only as 'the replacement,' not by name.”

 

Katniss sat back, taking it in. Darius hadn’t said anything she hadn’t already assumed, but listening to a detailed account of it brought back all the feelings of fear and dread from last night.

 

“There's one other development, but it might be nothing. There was a Panem-wide directive from the Capitol this morning to look out for two fugitives. We’re instructed to be on the lookout for suspicious people traveling by train or on foot. They haven't released photos yet, but I swear there was no mention of them before last night.”

 

“That could definitely be related,” Katniss encouraged, as both fear and hope settled in the pit of her stomach. “But I need to know more. There must be something else you can tell me.”

 

Darius shook his head. “They only tell us what we absolutely need to know. That mostly involves orders to blindly follow. They don't explain reasons for things to us Katniss, we're just supposed to _obey_.

 

“And if they _were_ releasing sensitive information to law enforcement, we’d be the last ones to get it. An assignment here is considered a joke, Katniss, a career killer. District Twelve has never been a threat, so they don't see a need for much intelligence or a strong presence here. I mean, look at the fence. It's practically never on. The only thing keeping people here is fear of the Capitol and fear of the unknown.”

 

She nodded in acknowledgement of what he was saying. Katniss had noticed that as well. “Thank you, Darius. I won‘t repeat what you told me,” she swore solemnly.

 

Darius looked a little nauseous with worry. “I sure hope not. But...Rory was a funny kid. And I liked Gale. And I like you. I'm sorry.”

 

“Will you let me know if you get visuals of the fugitives?” she asked.

 

Darius got up stiffly and shook his head. “I can't talk to you again, Katniss. The only person in Twelve with better information is the mayor himself. He's got a direct feed to Capitol intel in his house. You'd have to ask him.”

 

Darius ran his hand distractedly through his hair, and grabbed his purchase from Ripper. “Better partake while I still can,“ he joked darkly, before growing serious. “I wish I’d never been on duty last night.” He left the Hob shortly after, looking nervous and hunted.

 

 _So,_ Katniss thought. _The mayor._

  


* * *

  


All things considered, Katniss had very little time. It was probably the riskiest thing she'd ever done, but she had to _know_. The world was falling apart around her and she was expected to just submit and accept it when the wool was pulled over her eyes and the people she loved were systematically stolen away.

 

She couldn't do that.

 

Katniss had to get in the mayor’s house and find the communication device Darius had been talking about. Her options were very limited. She could make an heartfelt plea to the mayor for information. She knew he was a good man – Madge was one of the few people Katniss tolerated and even admired, after all, and he had raised her. But he was still a puppet to the strictures and whims of the Capitol. Especially during the Games. And Katniss didn't feel like being the next person to be seized by Peacekeepers.

 

She could ask Madge, but it was doubtful she knew anything about the situation. If Katniss had to guess, she'd say Madge kept her head out of Capitol matters – the less you knew, the safer and saner you were in Panem. And Madge usually had so little to say as it was, Katniss doubted she was a font of classified government information. If the mayor’s daughter had managed to keep a distance from her father's politics thus far, Katniss couldn't drag her into this precarious situation.

 

That left two options: walking away, which Katniss couldn't do, or sneaking into the Mayor's house, which was pretty much the worst idea she'd ever had.

 

But, if she was going to do it, the best time would be during the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. It was mandatory viewing and sadly, it was the part of the Games that was watched most avidly. Almost no one would be looking anywhere but at their screens. The countdown and its aftermath was something a person just couldn't look away from or ignore, even though they desperately wanted to.

 

A little while later, Katniss sat in the branches of a flowering tree in front of the Mayor's residence, scouring the streets for any stragglers. She'd scrambled up the tree not five minutes before a pair of Peacekeepers walked by, discussing who they expected to win this year.

 

The best way to get in without detection looked to be one of the windows on the upper story. Then it would just be a matter of sneaking through the rooms and not disrupting anyone in the house. Yes. And if she could grow wings, she could fly.

 

Some of the branches on the tree she sat in extended toward the roof of the wrap-around porch. The second-story windows would be accessible from there. It was just a matter of waiting for the countdown to start.

 

Katniss hoped there weren’t any Peacekeepers who were familiar with her family doing viewing checks in the Seam. They were known to enter houses randomly, and if someone noticed she wasn’t there, she’d need to find someone to say they’d seen her watching in the Square. The minutes ticked slowly away, until she could hear the sound of Claudius Templesmith’s voice begin the countdown, from the screen in the square. There was no time to lose.

 

Checking that the street was deserted, she hoisted herself further up, careful not to shake the branches more than necessary. With a last glance around, she stepped out onto the porch roof. From up there, Katniss could see the televisions in the windows of merchant houses and businesses below. There were snippets of green on the screens that were visible. It looked like the Arena was wooded this year, or maybe a jungle. Gale would have done well there.

 

But the whole point of this hasty and potentially ruinous plan was to be the only person in Twelve not watching the Games, so she turned away and scrambled over to the closest window with as little sound as possible.

 

Miraculously, the first window she tried was unlocked, and gave at the cautious pressure she applied. Slipping noiselessly inside, Katniss found herself in a room with warm tones, soft carpeting, and feminine décor. She couldn’t believe she was doing this.

 

It was likely Madge’s room. As she crept away from the window and further into the room, Claudius’s grave countdown faded into the background. She’d made it out of the tree and into the house in under sixty seconds.

 

Peeking her head out into the hallway, Katniss could make out the sound of Templesmith finishing up his count, this time issuing from a room several doors down. That was undoubtedly where the Undersees were watching. Veering in the opposite direction, Katniss quietly tried some of the other doors in the stately hallway.

 

It was quickly becoming apparent that she was particularly suited to this endeavor. Breaking and entering required stealth, agility, and speed. Katniss abounded in all. Even climbing the tree had been right up her alley. She had never considered it before, but she'd probably make a decent burglar. Katniss was proud she’d never resorted to stealing, but if things got desperate again, she’d do it to survive.

 

After a linen closet, a bathroom, and a darkened bedroom, Katniss stumbled upon the mayor's study. This had to be her destination. As she slipped inside and closed the heavy door behind her, she could hear the soft crackle of static.

 

There was a television in the room, but it had no buttons or adjustments on it. Getting information out of the stupid thing seemed impossible if there were no dials, no channels, and only static. But this was undoubtedly the key to Capitol information.

 

After a few minutes of inspecting the television set and looking around for a remote of some sort, a bright white background suddenly blinked on, and words started moving across the bottom of the screen rapidly. It was a news bulletin.

 

_FUGITIVES STILL AT LARGE, ALL-DISTRICT NOTIFICATION: PAIR LAST SEEN IN VICINITY OF CAPITOL TRAINING CENTER LATE MONDAY/EARLY TUESDAY…_

 

Footage flashed onscreen above the words, and Katniss saw some sort of surveillance camera catching two retreating forms. One she recognized instantly – Gale. He was following someone smaller, a girl, and they were running past the camera from one obscured corridor to another.

 

The area in the foreground was sumptuously laid out and brightly lit. Katniss would not have even noticed the darkened corridors in the background had her eyes not been drawn to movement, as a hunter.

 

Katniss's stomach roiled. Gale had run away. No wonder Effie had been in a shambles. She was responsible for getting her tributes from the district to the arena in one piece. It couldn’t bode well for her, and Katniss wondered if she’d ever see Effie Trinket again. Public figures had a way of fading into nonexistence rather rapidly in Panem.

 

And who was the person Gale was running away with? Had he planned this with another tribute? She tried to think back if any of the other escorts had seemed perturbed in the coverage she’s seen.

 

The footage of the escape looped once on repeat, and was then replaced by two pictures. One was a photo of Gale, the one they’d used when announcing his score from the session with the Gamemakers. But the other picture made Katniss’s mouth fall open.  

 

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It was the same woman from the forest, the one who’d called out for their help. Katniss was immediately brought back to that day. The murdered boy, this captured girl. The hovercraft that chased them. Her own cowardice and inaction. She’d relived the memory not twelve hours ago, when talking to Vick.

 

She’d assumed that woman died years ago. Now her picture was staring back at Katniss - red hair, porcelain skin, and a deadened look to the eyes. All in conjunction with Gale.

 

Katniss was almost too shocked to read the next set of words racing across the screen:

 

_ENEMIES OF STATE GALE HAWTHORNE AND AVOX2765 ARE TO BE CONSIDERED ARMED AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. PAIR IS TO BE DETAINED IMMEDIATELY, WITH LETHAL FORCE IF NECESSARY._

 

Her mind raced with too many questions to track. How had Gale found her? Being from the Capitol, she had to be involved with the Games somehow, or Gale probably wouldn’t have met her. What was her name, and what was an avox? How had they managed to form a plan of escape in the few days he’d been in the Capitol? Most importantly, where were they now?

 

Katniss certainly hoped they _were_ armed as the newsfeed had claimed, so they’d have a fighting chance. But it was hard to believe they were particularly dangerous when they looked like two scared people fleeing for their lives.

 

The Capitol was keeping this information away from the general public, yet the notification sent to select people was district-wide. They must have no idea where Gale and the woman were headed.

 

But surely, seeing Rory fighting for his life at the Cornucopia at this very moment, everyone must wonder where Gale was. Did most people assume his punishment was so severe he’d expired before the Games had even begun?

 

Katniss couldn't even begin to address how she felt about the fact that Gale was alive, free, and running, not in some detention facility. Her heart was soaring one moment, then plummeting the next, as she thought about how Rory was most likely standing in for him at the bloodbath, perhaps dead already.

 

Katniss didn't know what to feel, as relief, elation and grief swept through her simultaneously, warring for dominance. The only thing she did know was that she couldn’t stay in this house much longer.

 

Sneaking back into Madge’s room, Katniss made her way back to the window. She paused as the view through a side window caught her eye.

 

From her room, Madge could look down into several backyards in the Merchant quarter. One, notably familiar to Katniss, gave her pause. Seeing the pig pen and apple tree from a bird's eye view, she could imagine what she must have looked like huddled in the rain over four years ago. Looking down from above made it feel like she was staring directly through the years, and the remembrance hit her more acutely now than all the times she’d traded squirrels at the backdoor.

 

Katniss shook off her reverie just as the backdoor in question flew open. Peeta stumbled down the steps into his backyard, rubbing his hand over his face as he made his way towards the tree. Once he'd reached it, he dropped down heavily, huddling in on himself. He buried his face in his arms as his shoulders shook convulsively.

 

He was sobbing. Katniss didn‘t want to think of what that meant for Delly. She raised her hand and laid her fingertips on the cool glass as she watched, wishing there was a way to alleviate his grief, hating Panem. Too caught up in the scene before her, she didn't hear the door behind her open in time.

 

“Katniss?”

 

Whirling around in panic, she saw Madge standing in the doorway, eyes brimming with unshed tears and less shock than the situation warranted.

 

“Delly's gone,” Madge said dully. Katniss didn't say anything. She'd expected as much, seeing Peeta's pain. “The remaining tributes are pretty much fleeing to opposite ends of the arena or dividing up the spoils. There won’t be much of anything happening until tonight, most likely.”

 

Katniss waited for Madge to pronounce her guilty of burglary. It didn't come.

 

“I- I wasn't stealing-”

 

“I know, Katniss. I can figure out why you're here. I watch my father‘s newsfeed too.” They regarded each other for a minute.

 

“I gave Gale a pin in the Justice building. I wanted him to wear it in the arena. Maybe you saw it on his lapel during the interview.”

 

Katniss hadn't known Madge visited Gale after the reaping, nor had she noticed what  pin he wore during the interview.

 

“Guess I should have given it to someone else instead,“ Madge continued. “Is that- is that Rory, in there? Did Gale tell you he was going to…” she trailed off, shaking her head and sounding broken as she looked to Katniss for answers.

 

What could she say? She swore to Hazelle she wouldn’t tell anyone.

 

“It wasn't planned,“ Katniss assured her earnestly. “At least not before he left.”

 

Madge nodded and looked sadly thoughtful. “I wanted him to win. To live. But not at the cost of his brother’s life.” The tears were back, pooling in her eyes brilliantly.

 

Katniss had never imagined that Madge thought much of Gale, but looking at her expression now, hearing the pain in her voice, Katniss thought maybe she'd missed something pretty significant.

 

The idea was more than Katniss could deal with right now. Her mind was already swimming with confusion and new information.

 

“I wonder who that woman was. The avox,” Madge mused.

 

“What’s an avox?” Katniss asked, eager to avoid reliving the day that connected her to that woman yet again.

 

Madge sighed. “It’s a person who has displeased the Capitol. Supposedly they’re criminals, but I’m sure you realize that’s a very fluid term in Panem. Their tongues are cut out and they’re turned into slaves as punishment for their actions.” Katniss was horrified.

 

“Dad says there haven’t been any people from Twelve sent off to be Avoxes for a while. But clearly the practice hasn’t stopped in the meantime.”

 

“I have to get home and catch the next recap. Just in case I get asked what happened.”

 

Madge nodded. “I'll let you know if I can find out anything else.” Katniss started to swing her foot over the windowsill, but Madge stopped her.  

 

“Let me walk you downstairs to the front door. It’s easier. And a little less suspicious.”

 

Katniss shifted away from the window sheepishly. “Right.”

  


* * *

  


When Katniss arrived home, Prim ambushed her at the doorway.

 

“Where _were_ you? We were so worried!”

 

“There was somewhere I had to be, Little Duck. I promise it was important.”

 

“You could get in so much trouble for missing the countdown!”

 

Katniss nodded in acknowledgement. “I know, trust me. That’s why I’ve got to watch the next recap, and catch up.” She was very eager to see how the Capitol had addressed switching the tributes.

 

“Something’s wrong with Gale,” Prim fretted.

 

“What?” Katniss’s full attention was back on her sister. “What do you mean?”

 

“He wasn’t acting like himself at all. We barely got to see him, but he didn’t seem to know what he was doing or where to go when he reached the forest.”

 

Katniss sat back as Prim’s words settled in. She’d assumed that Madge’s confusion over whether it was Rory in the arena was because she was unfamiliar with which of the younger Hawthorne boys was named Rory.

 

But Prim thought it was still _Gale_ in there - Prim, who’d known all three Hawthorne boys since she was eight years old. Madge had realized it was Rory only because she _knew_ it wasn’t Gale, and the next eldest brother was the most logical conclusion.

 

How could the Capitol possibly pass a fifteen year old off as his older eighteen year old brother? Sure, they were both tall and slender, with the same coloring and similar features, but one was practically an adult, and one was still a child.

 

Newscasters and television personalities had been gushing about Gale’s good looks and his popularity among Capitolites for days. Surely they’d notice if the most talked-about tribute was missing.

 

Katniss had been expecting everyone in Twelve to be questioning how Rory appeared in the arena overnight. Now, with a sense of sickening dread, she wondered if anyone had noticed at all.

 

The hour changed and a replay of the events at noon began. The platforms slowly ascended into the arena. She could barely catch a glimpse of the one reserved for the male from District Twelve. The little girl from Eleven was there, peering into the woods behind her, and camera cut to Delly visibly trembling, but each camera angle just managed to cut the second tribute from Twelve out.

 

Finally, as the camera zoomed out to show all the tributes at once, her suspicions were confirmed. It was Rory's outline and not Gale's on the platform. The shot was a distance away, but since she knew to look, Katniss could differentiate his build from Gale's. Then the countdown was over and the frenzy began.

 

Katniss caught a glimpse of Delly jumping off her platform. Sunny curls bouncing, she turned in Rory's direction and blew an overstated kiss, her arm flung out to him. Then she turned and ran straight into the melee. Once she neared the brutish male from Two, Cato, Delly stopped, her eyes clenched shut and her arms open in supplication.

 

With an amused quirk of his lips and a noncommittal shrug of his shoulder, the Career obligingly felled her before turning to the next unlucky child.

 

Katniss cried out in denial, even though she already knew Delly hadn't made it through. She'd had no idea her end would be so abrupt and hopeless. She crumpled down onto the grass and was still, save for the breeze batting the tips of her curls. As screams continued to issue from the television, Katniss tried to comfort herself with the thought that it had been quick, and that Delly clearly chose death over the torment of the arena.

 

There were brief snatches of Rory running toward the forest from different angles as the coverage continued. There were backpacks and supplies nearby as he passed, but he missed the opportunity to grab any. Still, he’d made it through the bloodbath. As clips show the surviving tributes played on, Katniss was disconcerted to see that every shot of Rory showed him from the back, running away from the cameras and further into the woods. There were no close-ups or facial shots like with the other tributes. No pausing to focus on what he did throughout the remaining day in the arena. By now, Katniss had a sick realization of just how good the Gamemakers were at what they did. She'd never understood how effective editing could be at perpetuating a lie.

 

Anyone unfamiliar with Gale would easily mistake them with this coverage. If the footage continued in this vein, Katniss bet the majority of people in District Twelve, let alone the rest of Panem, would never even notice the difference.

 

All of Panem would be fooled. No one would know a tribute had managed to escape the Hunger Games. No one would know that another child had been sacrificed in their place, an injustice that violated the rules set forth in the Treaty of Treason. She felt like screaming in frustration, but she just sat frozen in front of the screen.

 

Sure enough, as pictures of the remaining tributes cycled on the screen, Gale's name and face showed up last, not Rory's. Claudius Templesmith came onscreen for a synopsis, which ended with, “And for all his heated words last night, the District Twelve’s Gale Hawthorne made a tepid showing this afternoon, running into the woods immediately and putting distance between himself and the Cornucopia.”

 

Katniss was disgusted. The only loose end that remained in this duplicity was an accounting of Rory’s whereabouts to those that knew him. The Capitol would be expecting Hazelle to come up with some explanation for why he was gone. In District Twelve, coming up with a story like that would be too easy: there was the electric fence, the dangerous beasts beyond it, mine shafts, sickness, and that old stand-by, starvation. To save her remaining children, Katniss had no doubt Hazelle would do it.

 

She had to tell Hazelle what she knew, and support them through the night’s primetime viewing. Then she’d decide what to tell Prim and her mother. She stood up, understanding exactly how limited the Districts were in their knowledge and how powerless that made them all. Their jailers could seamlessly hide someone’s entire identity, at the drop of a hat, even when every citizen’s eyes were glued to the screen. Everyone was too ignorant to question anything, too used to swallowing the Capitol’s tripe to resist doing it one more time. People believed what you showed them.

 

And if it was this easy for the Capitol to lie to the districts, what else were they keeping from them?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the chapter! Let me know what you think, I have been loving all your thoughts and reactions so far! Chapter Five will be up next Sunday! :)


	5. Swine Swindling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own The Hunger Games. Thanks to the RPGenius for editing, and to everyone following along and reading. I know the chapters have all been extremely heavy so far. While that is mostly par for the course, this one is a tad lighter.

_“Honesty is grounded in humility and indeed in humiliation, and in admitting exactly where we are powerless.”_

_\- David Whyte_

 

When Katniss joined the Hawthornes that night, she’d been shocked to see Hazelle up and doing a load of her clients’ wash, like she always was. She rushed over to help, offering to take care of it, but Hazelle told her no, the best thing she could do was give Vick and Posy a sense of normalcy, to show them that not everything was frighteningly different than before. Katniss was floored by her strength. She’d expected Hazelle to withdraw and turn in on herself, like her own mother had. Katniss doubted she herself would have had the fortitude to get out of bed either, after what Hazelle had been through.

They had a watery stew for dinner, and it was clear that the Hawthornes must be running low on food by now. Katniss knew the supplies back at her house were alarmingly sparse as well. With all the ceremonies and interviews leading up the Games, the fence had been on for a week straight, negating any hunting plans.

Katniss didn’t know what she would do if there wasn’t _some_ break in the electricity tomorrow. With barely enough to go around, there was never extra to set aside, and there was very little money to spare as well. Maybe her mother would have a patient soon, or Hazelle would get a new client. But that wouldn’t put meals on both tables tomorrow.

Rory made it through that night without event. Katniss felt terrible that she and Gale never thought to teach him basic snares or tracking techniques. By now he must be starving. Luckily, he’d stumbled across a stream, so he had water. When he settled into some underbrush to get some sleep, Katniss headed home for the night.

It had been relatively quiet for a first night in the arena. She worried that the Gamemakers were planning something special for tomorrow. If they were, she felt certain that it would target Rory. His continued presence as a stand-in for Gale was a liability, and there was still the matter of recompense for Gale’s speech.

Her one hope was that in not wanting to draw attention to the fact that it wasn’t Gale representing Twelve, the Gamemakers might spare Rory their more creative perils and the close-ups that went with them. Her mind ran endlessly through awful possibilities.

Eventually, Katniss huffed in irritation. There was nothing she could do and no way she could out-think the Gamemakers. She needed to sleep if she was going to have energy to hunt tomorrow, odds willing, or figure out some other way to get some food. She crawled into bed next to Prim tried to take comfort in the familiar warmth of Prim's body next to hers. She, at least, was safe.

 

* * *

 

The hum of electricity taunted her the next morning. The fence was still on.

Katniss clenched her fists and tried to stay calm. Just because the electricity supply had remained constant longer than it had during any other Hunger Games didn’t mean it would be on forever.

She’d just have to figure out a way to feed six people with things in the district. That or sign up for more tessera. Seeing how precarious the Hawthornes’ situation was now, without Gale, made it clear to Katniss that if she were reaped, it would severely affect Prim’s chances of survival as well. So more tessera was out.

She was a forager, a huntress. She’d have to make do. Katniss whirled around in determination, eyes roaming over the meadow. There were a few dandelions. Some of the wild onions Peeta had picked for her days ago. She set down her foraging bag and started digging.

Two hours later, Katniss determined that she’d scoured every inch of the meadow, and there were no edible plants she hadn’t already uprooted. There wasn’t much to speak of in her foraging bag either. Other clever Seam families probably gleaned the meadow for food too.

Now what? Her haul, if it could be called that, might be enough to tide Posy and Prim over, but then there was Vick, Hazelle, her mother, and herself. She heard squirrels chattering up in the Meadow’s old tree and fervently wished for her bow and arrow, safe and infuriatingly unreachable past the fence.

Katniss set up a small snare near the tree. It was doubtful the squirrels would go for it. These squirrels were very used to people, and were likely too smart to waltz into her makeshift trap. In desperation, she resorted to throwing rocks at them. She felt like a fool, especially when she realized that her impeccable aim with the bow and arrow didn’t extend to throwing stones. After half an hour her aim was better, but by then every squirrel in the area knew to avoid the crazy girl chucking rocks.

A squirrel or two would barely cut it anyway. She needed some actual game, with lots of meat on it. But there was no food to be caught or found in District 12. Katniss remembered these thoughts, and the impossibility of scrounging for food in a barren, impoverished district. They were familiar, and unwelcome, and from a time in her life she’d been unable to provide for herself.

She would not sink back to that state. She’d sworn it to herself. She would do anything.

Then Katniss remembered: just two days ago, in Madge’s house, she’d realized a completely new aspect to her hunting skills. Of course she never wanted to use it, but she’d acknowledged to herself even then that should the occasion arise when she needed to, she wouldn’t hesitate. Who would have thought she’d be considering it so soon?

Stealing was punishable by death, but Katniss had no intention of being caught. She just had to figure out an easy target with a decent haul. Something substantial and nourishing, preferably meat, would at least make the risk worth it. Damaging property to break in and enclosing herself in an unfamiliar space was to be avoided, so she should try to find something easily accessible from the outside.

Taking an animal made the most sense, it would be more fruitful than stealing a few cuts of meat from the butcher. Besides, Rooba bought her game. Katniss couldn’t steal from her. If Rooba ever even _suspected_ her, it could jeopardize her family’s livelihood.

Katniss also wouldn’t steal from anyone in the Seam. They were in the same boat, no one had extra. Besides, the families that managed to keep livestock were few and far between. It would have to be a Merchant.

She ran through the animals that she could actually carry off on foot. There weren’t many. Geese were too loud, and chickens didn’t yield a decent supply of meat. Prim definitely wouldn’t eat a goat. She didn’t know anyone who had lambs, and sheep were simply too big. That left pigs. _Small_ pigs.

Katniss wracked her brains for any other animals that fit the bill besides the option that was glaring her in the face. She knew where she could find several shoats that were the perfect size. Bigger than piglets, but not grown enough to prevent her from absconding with one. She’d seen them only yesterday, and they were kept in an extremely accessible backyard pen.

The only problem was that they belonged to the baker, and there was no one in the entire district she was more indebted to than Peeta Mellark.

 

* * *

 

The closer she got to the bakery, the more creatively Katniss reasoned. Sure, the baker had always been more than kind to her, but his wife was a total shrew, and possibly the person Katniss hated most in all the district, save Cray. Maybe the pigs belonged to Mrs. Mellark.

Peeta had given she and Prim cookies out of the goodness of his heart only days ago. He might be attached to those pigs. On the other hand, she’d promised Gale. Peeta had saved her _life_ , not to mention Prim’s and her mother’s as well. But Prim, Vick, and Posy were hungry.

Besides, it wasn’t like she’d take all the pigs. Just one. There were at least three in that pen, not to mention the large sow who had birthed them. Katniss tried to ignore how weak that argument sounded.

Gale didn’t think she could feed them. He expected her to fail. If he’d been small and nimble like she was, would he hesitate to steal for his family in dire straits? He would not.

She would succeed, despite what Gale thought. This was survival; there was no getting hung up on what was right or wrong, or feeling guilty because someone was kind. Those that ate, survived. That was all there was to it.

 

* * *

 

The setup of the pig pen was perfect. It was situated all the way at the edge of their backyard, and behind that was an alley, which eventually led to the Merchant side of the  electrified fence. No one would see her, because the Mellarks had to cover the bakery and watch the third day of the Games in between customers. Everyone was distracted and spread thin during the Games.

The plan was simple. She could climb into the pen easily enough, but she couldn’t climb back out with a struggling pig in her arms. Instead, she would remove some of the boards on the back, lure one of the shoats over with a wild onion from the meadow, and when it was close enough, reach through the opening she’d made and snatch it. After wrapping it up quickly in her foraging bag, she’d stick to the back streets all the way back to the Seam, and everyone would be eating well in no time.

Katniss was feeling pretty good about her plan. It seemed easy enough,, and there were few opportunities for things to go wrong. She’d been fairly successful sneaking about in the mayor’s house; her only mistake had been dawdling by the window. She just wouldn’t get distracted this time.

She checked for possible witnesses in the adjoining yards and staked out the bakery - no movement detectable in the back windows. Getting into place behind the pen, Katniss started trying to pry some of the boards loose.

It was far harder than she anticipated, but she was nothing if not tenacious. Katniss cursed whichever strapping Mellark son had built the pen – they’d probably been trying to get into their mother’s good graces, because it seemed more impenetrable than the electrified fence. She’d loosened one of the corner posts and some of the boards, but she couldn’t remove them fully or reach through, and there definitely wasn’t space to slip a young pig out between them.

It was taking too long and probably making too much noise. Time to change the plan. Maybe if she leaned far enough into the pen, she could grab a pig and leverage herself back over. That was probably the quickest way, she just had to get one to come close enough. Grabbing an onion from the bag on the ground, she wedged her feet between the slats and leaned into the pen.

The amended plan worked better than Katniss had expected. A lot better. All the shoats wanted the onion, and they weren’t afraid to fight each other out of the way to get it. There were four, not three like she’d estimated. Four frantic, wriggling, over excited little pigs. It was a veritable bacon buffet, if only she could get a decent grip on one.

Katniss had to work one handed, as the other was too busy dangling the coveted onion above their little snouts. Every time she thought she’d managed to wrap her arm under the belly of a pig, one of its jealous siblings pushed it out of the way.

She’d never known pigs could be so _loud_. In minutes, someone would probably be coming to check on the ruckus. Katniss jammed the onion as tightly as she could between two boards of wood, high enough as to be out of reach to the little porkers, which freed up her other hand. Desperate, she leaned even further into the pen, no longer balancing her weight on her feet, but on her midsection.

Unfortunately for Katniss, the sow chose that moment to investigate what all the commotion was about. She trotted calmly over, and smelling the onion, plucked it from between the boards with her teeth. Katniss swore and made a haphazard swipe for the nearest shoat. She came up empty. Denied the promised onion, the young pigs squealed louder than ever.

And though the sow couldn’t see any more onions, she could definitely smell them, just beyond the pen in Katniss’s foraging bag. The first had been delicious, and in enthusiasm for another, she started pushing against the side of the pen.

Thanks to Katniss’s efforts, the wood was loosened enough to give the pig hope of reaching the vegetables. The sow pushed harder, shaking the boards, and Katniss tumbled into the muddy pen.

At that moment, Peeta opened the back door to check on the pigs, at his mother’s insistence. The sight of graceful, stoic Katniss Everdeen plunging headfirst into the pig sty was the last thing he had ever expected to witness. The scene rapidly got out of hand. The pigs, spooked by her abrupt intrusion, started to panic and run about, shrieking their distress.

Their instincts had merit, because even sprawled out in the muck, Katniss tried to dart her hands out in one last attempt to bag a pig. This only made them more frantic, and with evidence that the intruder meant them harm, the sow began to run at the weakened corner of the pen, butting against the loosened post.

She charged the fence harder and harder. Katniss, concerned that the large animal would turn on her, scrambled out of the pen as soon as she could get herself up. Once her muddy feet touched ground on the other side of the enclosure, she checked the house for witnesses, and locked eyes with Peeta.

They stared at each other helplessly as the boards of the pen gave way, splitting and splintering with a hideous, wrenching sound that echoed across the yard. Peeta’s head darted to the side as he heard furious footsteps approaching from within the house. He looked quickly back to Katniss, a panicked, pleading look in his eyes.

There were only seconds to react, but Katniss understood his warning. If anyone saw her, she was finished. And the fear in Peeta’s eyes told her exactly who was coming. Mrs. Mellark would have no problem reporting her to the authorities as a thief. She’d probably help string the noose that followed, too.

Covered in mud from head to toe, Katniss darted toward the nearby apple tree, the only place to hide that was reachable. She scaled the tree as fast as she could, as her life depended on it.

Even so, Peeta knew there wouldn’t be enough time. As the sow and piglets squeezed through the break in the pen and escaped into the backyard, Peeta threw himself against the door he’d just come from, blocking his mother from opening it and witnessing the chaos until Katniss was safely hidden.

While Katniss yanked herself further into the tree, she could hear Mrs. Mellark’s voice clearly. She was practically upon them.

“What the devil is that useless pillock doing out there? I told him to shut those swine up, and they're louder than ever!”

Situated as high in the tree as she could go without snapping branches and giving away her position, Katniss stared back at Peeta, terrified. She saw the door burst open, colliding with his body. Peeta staggered and leaned heavily against it, pushing his mother back in the house while he frantically scanned the apple tree for visible signs of her presence. Katniss knew he’d be made to regret _that_ little move.

Satisfied she was hidden and unable to delay longer without further suspicion, Peeta stepped back just in time for Mrs. Mellark's second attempt to send the door banging against the side of the house. She stormed onto the porch, livid that he’d blocked her. Without so much as a word to him, she smacked Peeta across the face.

“What is it you don't want me to see?” She scanned the yard, taking in the chaos and disarray as her face contorted with fury. “You idiot! I should have known better than to let you build the pen!

She grabbed the neck of his shirt and fisted it in her hands, giving it a hard yank to the side. It caused him to lose his footing, and Peeta stumbled unsteadily to the side in an effort not to fall into her.

“Mend the fence and get them back in before their squealing gives me a headache. See if you can do _one_ thing that doesn't end up a complete failure, eh?” She gave him a nasty shove toward the pig pen.

Unfortunately, Peeta’s balance had already been compromised, and the shove caused him to stumble backwards off the porch. The distance down to the ground was small, but he landed on his ankle at an angle, all his weight bearing down on it. Katniss winced as his exclamation of pain reached her ears.

He pulled himself upright, and it was clear from his movements that he was favoring his left foot. His mother left with a parting shot. “Don’t you _dare_ come back inside until they’re all back in that pen.” The door banged triumphantly behind her retreating back.

Katniss knew his mother was vile, but she couldn't believe the woman would force her son to repair a pig pen while he was obviously hurt, without at least checking the extent of the injury. But the bruises she’d cataloged on him over the years had always taken a long time to heal. It was obvious they were never tended to after they'd been dealt out, so she shouldn‘t be surprised.

The knowledge that this was all her fault settled on her shoulders like a boulder. She was a fool to try and steal a pig, and now she was responsible for bringing more hardship on an undeserving Peeta Mellark. Not to mention he’d saved her once again. Would she _ever_ stop owing this boy?

By this time, he’d hobbled over to the side of the porch, where there was a small tool shed attached to the house. He started making his way back towards her and the pen with some boards tucked under his arm and a hammer and nails in his hands.

Katniss didn't want to drown in guilt and recrimination with him as an audience, but she knew she should stay and help him, so she started to ease herself down.

“Don't.” he said authoritatively as he approached her, facing away from the house. Katniss froze. “I'm pretty sure she's still watching. She'll want to make sure I'm working and not stopping to nurse my...well, not stopping.”

His face was bright red with humiliation. Katniss cursed herself, not knowing what to say. He had nothing to be ashamed of. She was the fool who’d gotten them into this mess.

“You'll just have to hold tight 'til I can finish this, I‘m sorry,” he said as he laid some boards by his feet. “When I’m done I’ll go inside and give you a signal in the window when the coast is clear, okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbled. Her voice was as small as she felt.

The pigs were still happily munching on the onions in her bag when Peeta shooed them back into the ruined pen. He began carefully lining boards along the back side. “And don't worry, if she sees me talking out here, she'll just think I'm talking to the pigs. Wouldn't be the first time.” He smirked and rolled his eyes good-naturedly at himself. “They're good listeners.”

Katniss buried her face in her hands. Now he was going to be open and friendly to the person who was trying to steal his animals. Shame didn’t begin to describe what she was feeling.

“I can't believe they got out of here. I thought I'd made this really secure. They must've been weakening that side for a while now,” he mumbled as he grabbed some nails.

She wanted to melt into the tree bark. He hadn’t realized what happened. It couldn’t be more obvious - she'd been right there, leaning into the pen. Now what would happen if he cottoned on? Would he still want to help conceal her? Or would he want to inform his mother and apportion the blame where it was deserved, off of himself? It would be a natural reaction.

As the minutes ticked past, Katniss wallowed in her guilt. This scenario was all too similar: his pain, her helplessness, even the pigs and the damned tree. It was like a warped reiteration of that day in the rain.  And now she was trapped in this arbor for as long as it took to rebuild the side of a pig pen. How did she manage to get herself into this situation?

“Can I ask you something?” he inquired politely. Dreading the question, Katniss said nothing. Silence was probably best. This looked bad enough as it was, no need to incriminate herself further. Peeta mustered on.

“What were you doing leaning into the pen?” Her breath caught. He was figuring it out.

“Were you trying to feed them?”

Katniss almost laughed in disbelief. He couldn't seriously be that clueless.

“I know they're cute, but petting them or feeding them isn't the best idea. As you can see, they can get pretty excited around strangers or food.”

She sighed in exasperation. The disconnect between merchants and reality was frightening. The last thing she’d ever do was waste food on someone else’s livestock. But it seemed unwise to disabuse him of this ridiculous notion.

She glanced over to check his progress. There was one new board up. Katniss suppressed a groan. As she watched him align the next one, her mind wandered. His hands moved with such careful deliberation. When she realized she was watching the way he held the nails between his lips, she shook her head in an effort regain focus.

Not talking to Peeta didn't seem to be working. When she wasn't focusing on the terrible consequences of her actions, she was focusing on entirely inappropriate things.

Peeta sighed as he placed the next nail, speaking around the one pursed between his lips. “So you don’t want to talk. That's okay, you don't have to. I'm just sorry you're stuck here because my mother thinks the worst of everyone...”

She couldn't contain herself anymore. It was naïve to think so well of people, and it would only end up getting him hurt again and again, just as it had this time. Katniss knew she was risking everything, but she couldn't bear to mislead him about this whole fiasco.

“Your mother would have been right if she'd seen me! I _was_ trying to steal from you, okay? I'm not some sweet merchant girl, Peeta. I'm not going to go around feeding pigs instead of my own family!” She quashed a hysterical little laugh at the idea and continued, “I was leaning over the fence so I could snatch one, take it home, and slaughter it.” She bit her lip as she waited for her felonious intentions to settle in.

Peeta was still, and though he didn't move his head or body in her direction – that could give her presence away – Katniss could tell he desperately wanted to. His eyes were hard and angry. She'd never seen him like this. Surely he'd turn her in to his mother now.

“Katniss, stealing is punishable by _death_. What if you'd been caught?” His voice was steeled in anger. “How could you do something so reckless?” he whispered, sounding distraught.

That wasn’t the reaction she'd expected. “Simple, the fences are almost always on now, and I don‘t own a cushy bakery,” she retorted. Katniss knew she was being snide for no reason, but Peeta needed to know that people weren’t always what he thought.

“But, why wouldn't you come to me? I could help.”

Katniss knit her eyebrows together incredulously. “Why would I bother you? We don't know each other! It's none of your business!” She felt her anger rising. Why was he always so eager to assist? Why was he always present when things were going wrong?

“But I _want_ to help you! Always. I thought that after... since that day when we were kids, you might know that.”

“I don't want your help. I don't _need_ your help,” she amended quickly, trying to regain some pride.

Peeta scowled as he started on the next slat in the fencing. He couldn't leave it alone though.“I'm sure you're willing to do anything for Prim. But how could Prim get on if you were caught and taken away, or worse?” He looked more upset than ever. “People need you.”

“People need food more.”

“And accepting a little charity is worse than risking death?”

Katniss wouldn't dignify him with an answer. He had no say over what she did. He didn't know how degrading it felt to not be able to provide, and then have that rubbed in your face with every hand-out.

Except, the way Peeta made it sound, her decisions were being clouded by something entirely self-serving: pride. That didn’t sit well with her.

 _“Please_ Katniss, accept a little kindness here and there if you have to. Just don't go risking your life, okay?”

Katniss thought about his words, troubled, and they lapsed into silence again. She counted every excruciating moment. His ankle was probably throbbing by now, she suspected.

After a little longer, Peeta changed the subject - desirous of her conversation, though she had no idea why.

“That's not Gale in the Games, is it?” he intoned quietly.

Her eyes widened. Katniss didn't think anyone had noticed. Hazelle had sent a note to the school that morning stating that Rory was ill, and no one seemed to be the wiser. There were complaints that the coverage wasn't focusing on Gale at all, but everyone assumed that was retribution for his interview speech. It would be harder to get sponsors if you were a non-entity.

She hadn't expected a merchant would notice. How was it that the baker's son, who couldn't imagine her nabbing one of his pigs, even when she was caught red-handed, had detected the Capitol's subterfuge?

“How did you know?” she inquired, shocked.

“He's not catching any game. Gale is a pro, isn't he? I mean, he's not _you_ , with your deadly accuracy, not by a long stretch. But every once in awhile we can afford one of his rabbits if business is really good, and he always manages to have really big ones. I can't imagine snaring a heavy hare is easy.”

He was more observant than she'd given him credit for. Katniss tried to suppress the warm feeling that bubbled up in response to his praise of her. And now that Peeta mentioned it, it did seem like more people should notice that a tribute who scored 10 in his private session wasn’t performing accordingly in the arena.

“Plus, I always noticed how tall he was,” Peeta mumbled. Katniss detected a twinge of jealousy in his voice. She smiled. The self consciousness about his height was a little endearing. He always seemed so confident around others. “The boy in the arena seems much shorter, though it’s hard to tell with the way they film it. Who is he, and where's Gale?”

Katniss was torn. She wanted people to know. The Capitol shouldn’t get away with this. But she couldn't endanger the remaining Hawthornes. Their lives were forfeit if word got out that Rory had been taken.

“I can't tell you. I'm sorry.”

He nodded his understanding. “Maybe I‘ll figure it out on my own.” She wondered the same. Apparently, Peeta was more astute than he’d seemed when assuming she'd mistaken his pig pen for a petting zoo.

He was almost finished by now, Katniss saw with relief. She could also see that his leg was splayed in a way that kept all pressure off his foot.

“How's your ankle?”

“It's fine, really. Don't even worry about it.” If she couldn't see the way he was favoring it, she'd believe him. Not only was he observant and smart, he was a good liar. Katniss didn't like that.

She sat back on her branch. Peeta was too puzzling. He had always been unfailingly kind and generous in his interactions with her and others. But today, he’d been furious with her and overly critical of her actions and choices, as if what she did in her own life affected him somehow. On the other hand, he'd also protected her, reassured her and complimented her hunting prowess. It was too much to sort through.

Peeta put the finishing touches on the mended pen. “I'm going to check if she's still watching. Stay, and I'll wave from the window when she's busy.” Katniss noted his uneven gait as he returned to the bakery.

Once he'd gone inside, her gaze wandered to the work he'd just completed. She noticed sourly that the sow and shoats were now serene, as though the past episode had never happened. But hadn't there been four smaller pigs? Katniss could only see three.

She looked nervously to the bakery as Peeta exited and headed over to her, carrying a wrapped bundle under his arm. Coming to the tree, he looked up at her for the first time since they'd wondered if his mother was watching.

Katniss shifted under his regard. She kept forgetting how intently he looked at her during their few interactions.

“She's making a delivery to one of the few neighbors she likes. She'll be gone for a little while.” The corner of Peeta’s mouth crept up as if he was trying not to smile.

“What's so funny?” she asked defensively.

“No, nothing, I just...even covered in mud, you look regal up there.” He smiled up at her shyly.  “Like you're in your element, looking down on us mortals from your lofty perch, meting out judgment and finding us lacking.”

Katniss blushed at his strange words. She'd completely forgotten about the mud all this time. She must look ridiculous. And what did he mean? Was he mocking her? She was no stranger to being thought cold and distant, many took her reticence for conceit. But his voice hadn't sounded disparaging.

“You know I meant that as a compliment,” he said softly. She'd felt confused before, but now heat flooded her face. Flustered, she turned and descended from the tree.

“You're missing one,” Katniss said, nodding toward the pen, desperate to change the subject. Peeta's brow furrowed as he slowly made his way over, setting his parcel next to her abandoned foraging bag. Stunned, he turned and swept the yard with his gaze.

“Do you think it made it out to the street?” He looked worried.

“I'll check. You stay here, you're hurt.” It seemed like he was about to protest, so she shot him a quelling look, and crept around the side of the house to peer into the street. Nothing was amiss, and there was no pig in sight. She checked the adjacent backyards, but there was no sign of a pig.

She returned to find Peeta heading down the alley that led to the merchant side of  the district fence. He stopped and looked out at the forest.

“Wherever it is, it's long gone by now,” she said as she approached, defeated.

Peeta nodded in agreement before pointing to a patch of dirt just outside the fence. There were tracks made by small, cloven feet. But the fence was on, she could hear it. How on earth...

“There must be a breach in the fence somewhere around here,” he said, looking around. And sure enough, when Katniss shifted some discarded crates away, a small gap became visible. It would have been just large enough for a little pig to slip through without touching the wires.

“Guess he likes Twelve about as much as I do,” she quipped. Thinking better of her comment, she glanced nervously at Peeta from the corner of her eyes. Speaking negatively about any part of Panem, especially during the Games, was ill-advised. She normally wouldn't, except in the forest with Gale. What was she thinking, making dangerous jokes to someone she barely knew?

But Peeta only burst out into startled laughter. “No kidding. Clever pig.” He smiled at her, the remnants of laughter on his face quickly turning to concern as he saw her worried expression. “Hey, don't worry. I'm not going to turn you in.

“I'd leave here,” he stated boldly, and, Katniss thought, a little naively. “I just can't fit through that hole down there.” Katniss glanced over at his body, mentally comparing the dimensions of his broad form to the opening in the fence in the meadow. It'd be a tight fit. Not that she'd ever reveal its location to him, of course.

“Well, I guess that's that,” he sighed. “I hope the little guy doesn't try to come back through while the current is on. I'd hate it to escape for nothing.”

Katniss couldn't believe he was being so forbearing. He’d pay the price for its absence. Were it her, she'd be cursing the little animal to the Games and back.

“What will your mother do?” she asked, dreading the answer.

Peeta looked down and shrugged, his demeanor instantly shifting to one of uneasy embarrassment. “I'll just watch the Games in the square tonight,” he said quietly. “She'll need my help with the morning rush tomorrow. That‘s my ticket back in.”

Katniss looked at him in disbelief. “She was serious about not letting you back into the house?”

Peeta got red. “I think so, but I’d rather not find out for sure. I’ll just spend the night elsewhere. It’s better, really, than being around her when she finds out...” he trailed off, his attempt at putting a positive spin on the situation failing miserably.

Katniss had no doubt his mother would find a way to punish Peeta for the missing pig, no matter when he returned to the house. Even if there was a place he could stay after watching the Games tonight, he was going to be standing on his injured ankle in front of the screen in the square for hours on end. She couldn't let that happen.

“I'm going home,” she announced.

Peeta nodded his understanding. “Well-”

“And you're coming with me. My mother's going to take a look at your leg.” Katniss walked to her bag and picked it up. There was something inside that definitely hadn't been there before.

She pulled out the package Peeta had been carrying earlier. He must have sneaked it in when she was looking for the pig. It was wrapped in paper and she could see grease stains starting to show through. “What's this?”

“That's to make up for whatever was in there that our pigs ate. Sorry about that.”

Katniss looked up at him critically. Obviously it wasn't his fault she lost her onions in the process of stealing from his family.

The package was still warm, and by now, the heavenly scent emanating from it had reached her nostrils. Katniss’s mouth watered as her empty stomach gnashed with longing. She recognized that smell, though she'd never tasted them. _Cheese buns_. Her stomach flipped in dismayed resignation as she thrust the package back toward him.

She sought to distract herself with her building irritation.

“I still don't want any charity,” she said, eyes narrowed.

“Don't take them then.” Peeta replied flippantly. “I'll stay here and finish them off.”

“No, you're coming to the Seam to get your leg looked at,” she insisted, her tone brokering no argument. 

“I‘m sure it‘s nothing some cheese buns won‘t fix. I'm not about to let them go to waste.”

He was purposefully trying to drive her mad. She didn't care if she had to haul him halfway across Twelve, he was getting his leg looked at and she wasn't taking the food in exchange for nothing.

He stared at her challengingly as she glared right back. After a few tense moments, he fortunately broke the stalemate.

“Maybe I could use them to pay your mother for looking at my ankle. I don't have any money.”

Katniss considered the offer. That seemed acceptable. People regularly paid her mother in whatever they were able to spare. In the end, it would have nothing to do with herself, she thought, just her mother's business. So it wasn't charity. And though she hated to admit it, even to herself, without those buns she'd have nothing to give to the Hawthornes tonight.

“Fine,” she bit out, flipping her braid over her shoulder angrily. The fact that it was still caked with mud and made a slapping sound against her back lessened the effect.

Peeta smiled at her acquiescence, face sunny, as though his ankle wasn't throbbing and they hadn't been bickering just seconds ago. She moved to help him, thinking she could brace her shoulder under his as he hobbled over to the Seam.

“You’d better get going. My mother could be back any second, and she can‘t see you.”

Katniss had totally forgotten about Mrs. Mellark’s impending return. Still, she hesitated. Peeta would have a difficult time getting all the way to her house.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. I’ll take it slow. Just take the cheese buns before you go, they’ll be ice cold by the time I get there.”

She nodded, stuffing the package into her sack. “I’ll see you soon.”

And with that she turned to go, her muddy boots squelching with every step.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some Peeta! :D
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you'll tell me what you think and if you're enjoying this so far. This chapter represents the last one that I had a very detailed outline for, so updates will be coming a little slower going forward. But I still have a pretty good idea of where I'm going, never fear. ;) I am ghtlovesthg on tumblr.


	6. Pyres and Proclamations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hunger Games, and all its characters, do not belong to me. 
> 
> I must thank The RPGenius for his fabulous editing skills, and Porchwood, for looking over this chapter and giving valuable feedback.

 

_“The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire.”_

_-Ferdinand Foch_

 

Katniss was halfway back to the Seam with the cheese buns when she stopped. Peeta had urged her to head home without him and leave the bakery before his mother might return. But he was in pain. He could use her help. There was no reason she couldn’t assist him beyond view of the bakery.

With a stubborn tilt of her chin, she turned on her heels and doubled back. Sure enough, Peeta had barely made it beyond the Square. His leg must be hurting him more than he’d let on.

Katniss strode over to him. All his focus was on favoring his ankle, and he didn’t even look up at her approach. She drew up to him, taking hold of his wrist and ducking under his arm. Peeta blinked at her, surprised to find himself suddenly leaning on her shoulder.

“If you were in that much pain, you should have said so,” she admonished.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about; I’m just out for a stroll,” he quipped.

Katniss rolled her eyes. This was looking to be a long trek back to the Seam.

* * *

 When they burst through the front door, Prim and her mother looked startled. Given the unexpectedness of their arrival and her current state - coated in patches of drying mud - she couldn’t exactly blame them. In an attempt to forestall any inquiries about exactly how she'd ended up covered in the stuff, Katniss blurted, “Peeta hurt his leg. It needs to be looked at.”

They both quickly rose from the table, and Prim started heating water while her mother gathered bandages and herbs that might help. Katniss felt a wave of gratitude. As soon as their expertise was required, there was no hesitation, no mention of whether payment would be forthcoming. The two Everdeen women just accepted that they were needed, and saved the details for later. That quality was one of the reasons her mother was a consummate healer, and Prim was well on her way to becoming the same.

As they moved back and forth, gathering materials and making preparations, Katniss helped Peeta into a chair. Then she kept out of the way at the edge of the room, placing her foraging bag by the sideboard. Just because they hadn’t inquired about payment didn’t mean they wouldn’t enjoy what was offered. She pulled out the parcel, planning to divvy the buns and bring half to the Hawthornes.

The mouthwatering aroma of fresh bread and cheese filled the room, and even her mother paused, a roll of bandages falling from the bundle in her arms and rolling across the floor. There were at least two dozen buns in the package, enough for full bellies in both the Everdeen and Hawthorne homes.

Prim set down a steaming kettle at the side of the table and stepped away, giving her mother space to pour the hot water into a basin on the floor and get Peeta settled. As Prim moved back to where Katniss stood, her blue eyes hungrily devoured the offering from the bakery - each roll toasted golden brown, and shining with oil where the cheese was soaking through.

“They smell amazing” Prim whispered, her voice sounding awed. Katniss smiled. She appreciated any opportunity for Prim to behave like a twelve-year-old girl, and not a healer-in-training who saw and dealt with things far beyond her years.

She only ever traded for the least expensive loaves at the bakery - and day old ones at that. Nothing fancy, and nothing fresh. The cheese buns were a real treat. It was a pleasure to be able to present these to her Prim, and Peeta had made it possible. Katniss felt her residual irritation with him ebbing.   

Prim took her time choosing the bun she found most beautiful. The smile on her face was worth anything. Taking a gigantic bite, she sighed in delight and mumbled ecstatically, her words indiscernible around the mouthful of bread.

Katniss laughed and took one for herself. She’d wanted to try these for ages. As she sank her teeth into the the roll, the pillow-soft bread gave way to a heavenly cheese filling, still warm and the very core. Katniss closed her eyes. She was in raptures.

When she opened her eyes, she was disconcerted to see Peeta grinning at her over his shoulder. Turning her back to the others to hide her blush, Katniss started wrapping up half the cheese buns.

Prim gave a startled squeak when she noticed her mother was already gently feeling the bones in Peeta’s ankle, and rushed back to the table. Grabbing a spare rag, Katniss moved to the bedroom to wipe some of the mud from her skin and clothes. She’d need a proper bath, but that could wait until the Peeta situation was taken care of. He still had nowhere to stay tonight.

Once she’d cleaned up a bit, she took the rolls over to Hazelle. Katniss made the request she'd been debating about on the way home, and Hazelle graciously accepted.

By the time she returned, Peeta’s ankle was elevated and Prim was gingerly laying a poultice over it. Her mother had determined that it was sprained and quite swollen, but luckily not broken.

Katniss listened to the prognosis and recommendation for recovery -- a week of staying off his feet, followed by mild exercise and stretches over the following few weeks to strengthen the ankle and minimize damage -- dubious that Peeta would be given the luxury of time to recuperate. And now that he had been adequately seen to, her mother asked the question Katniss had been dreading. “How did you hurt your ankle, Peeta?”

Determined that Peeta not be embarrassed when she'd invited him here as a refuge from his situation at home, Katniss quickly interjected. “He tripped. I was there,” she said in a tone clipped with finality.

Her mother glanced over to Peeta for confirmation, perhaps aware that more might be at play, but he seemed to suddenly find the floor in front of him interesting. Katniss continued, desperate to break the silence of that moment. “I'll get some pillows. The wooden chairs aren’t very comfortable.”

After Peeta’s back, neck, and ankle were cushioned to Katniss’s satisfaction, Prim insisted on heating more water for a bath. Katniss wanted to protest, but Prim assured her they had things under control and Peeta wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. When she not-so-subtly hinted that something smelled, strangely, like a pig sty,  Katniss sheepishly gave in.

They set up the dented old tin basin in the bedroom. Prim poured a kettle of boiling water into it, and Katniss added a quantity of tepid water. As she disrobed and shook out her hair, Prim stooped to gather the muddied garments. “It’s almost primetime, so Mom and I are leaving to watch with the Hawthornes soon. You can join us after you help Peeta home, or he can stay and watch here with you. Either way, keep him off his ankle as much as possible.”

Katniss nodded as her sister left. She had doubts about whether Peeta would be able to get any rest for his ankle. It didn’t seem likely. And one way or another, he would have to make it over to the Hawthornes’. Katniss had promised herself she’d be there for them through the toughest viewing hours, so she couldn’t stay here. And Peeta didn’t know it yet, but he was sleeping there tonight.

The house grew quiet as Katniss scrubbed her skin with their well-used sponge. Every once in a while, she could hear the creak of a wooden chair, as Peeta shifted his position by the stove. It was strange, knowing he was sitting and waiting just one room away. Strange to be alone together in her house.

When she’d finished her bath, evening was falling and the most eventful hours of the Games were rapidly approaching. Katniss quickly got dried and dressed, and re-entered the kitchen, braiding her wet hair.

She stopped in the doorway and saw Peeta’s eyes sweep over her. Her hair was in disarray, with wet tendrils clinging to her neck and jawline, and the loose braid hanging over her shoulder like a bundle of dark ropes. Her skin was flushed from the steaming bath, and getting warmer still under his regard. Maybe he was judging her. They probably didn’t take hip baths in little tin tubs in Town.

She stood there, not knowing exactly what to say, but he saved her the trouble. “Prim said you'd probably watch the Games here while they went to your neighbor's. And that you'd help me home after primetime.”

“She's wrong on both counts. You and I are going to the Hawthornes’ house.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to impose. I’ll just watch here, and I can make it back on my own. I know the last thing anyone needs is an unfamiliar face around when they’re trying to grieve.” The house grew silent again as thoughts of Delly settled around her and Peeta.

He fiddled with his shirt cuff. “I can’t believe she’s gone. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like I won’t just see her again, on the street, or at her parent’s shop, or coming to pick up some bread.”

He ran his hand through his hair, and his lip trembled. “It’s like she just turned the corner, you know? Like she has to still be here, just out of sight, because there’s never _been_ a District 12 without Delly, not for me.”  

Katniss sank down into a seat across the table, wishing she knew something she could say that would make sense, or make him feel better. But there was nothing.

“And the whole time, I know she’s lost, thousands of miles away in a world so different it might as well be another planet. Alone. Insignificant to all of them.”

Without thinking, Katniss reached across the table and laid her hand over his. Peeta was hurting, and it was all she could do.

“In my head, I know she’s gone, but somehow, I can’t _believe_ it yet. And I have to wonder, which is worse? The denial that I’ve lost a friend, or the time when I stop believing I’ll look up one day and see her, just as she always was?”

Peeta took a shuddering breath. “Is it like that for you, with Gale? It’s probably even worse. At least I know what happened with Delly,” he mused, sadly.

Katniss bit her lip and stared down at the table top. “Not exactly.” She glanced up at him quickly and then back down. She wanted to tell him about Gale and Rory. Both she and Peeta had seen loved ones sent off to the Games. And while the circumstances had shifted dramatically, the toll it took on the people left behind had not. Of anyone in Twelve, what Peeta was experiencing seemed most similar to her own situation. He deserved the truth. And some hope. But Katniss she couldn’t outright tell him. She’d promised.

“I have some idea of what happened to Gale. I know where he’s _not_.”

“In the arena, you mean,” Peeta clarified.

“More than that.”

Peeta furrowed his brow in incomprehension, and Katniss sighed, frustrated. There was no way anyone would guess that Gale had escaped Capitol custody and gone on the run. Even Hazelle had barely believed it, when Katniss had hastily divulged her discovery in whispers the night before.

The Hawthorne matron had been reluctant to believe, but then Katniss had plainly seen the relief and joy for Gale on her face. And the way it warred with her grief and despair for Rory.

Katniss’s thoughts returned to the present as she got to her feet. “Never mind that. You're not going back tonight.”

Peeta looked confused, so Katniss elaborated, “You're going to stay with the Hawthornes. I already checked, and Hazelle is fine with it.”

“What?” Peeta stammered, surprised.

“We should be over there already. I’ll help you get there, don’t worry.”

“Katniss, I couldn’t possibly-”

“Spend the night goodness-knows-where, while you wait to sneak back home for the morning rush? I couldn’t agree more.” Katniss would be damned if she let his mother lay a finger on him again tonight. He was staying in the Seam for the night and that was that.

“Besides, I know you wouldn’t want to offend Hazelle’s hospitality by not showing up.” She helped pull Peeta to his feet, and braced her shoulders under his arm for support.

“Of course not,” he answered, still clearly worried.

“Well then, hurry up.” And with that, Katniss nudged Peeta to begin hobbling toward the Hawthornes.’  

As they neared the front door, Peeta paused. “Wait, what are the names of Gale’s siblings? I don’t know, and I should.”

“Vick and Posy.” Katniss made to keep moving, but Peeta held back.

“I thought there were three of them.”

She swiveled her head to stare him in the eye. “There are. But Rory’s not here.”

“Is he watching from the square?”

“No.” Katniss hesitated. Peeta had been wondering who was in the arena in Gale’s place. Maybe this is how she could tell him without _telling_ him. “That’s why you’re staying here, actually. There are a couple of extra beds now. So if you don’t want to sleep in Gale's bed, you can take _Rory’s_.” She raised her eyebrow meaningfully.

Peeta looked thoughtful. And troubled. “So...Rory’s not coming back tonight?”

“No. He won’t be here. But you’ll probably _see_ him.” Katniss gave him another speaking glance, willing him to read the truth in her face.

Peeta’s mouth dropped open, and she could see the dawning comprehension in his eyes. _Bullseye._

“No!”

Katniss nodded gravely.

“But that’s completely against everything-”

“It is.” Her expression was stony, but she poured every bit of anger, hopelessness, and pain she was feeling into those two words. It felt good to vocalize some of the rage and despair that had been churning inside her.

Peeta shook his head helplessly, looking around as though there were answers to be found in the surrounding Seam windows and alleys.

After a few moments, he gathered himself. “Katniss, I definitely shouldn’t be imposing. The last thing they need is-”

“”Peeta!” she interrupted for the second time in just moments. “You’re staying here for the night. I assure you, it’s not an intrusion. We’ve all been feeling particularly powerless with everything that’s going on, so it’ll be nice to actually be able to _do_ something, and help someone out. Just go along with it.” Katniss rapped on the door as an underscore to her words.

Hazelle answered and graciously welcomed them inside. After the requisite words of gratitude were exchanged - Peeta, for their hospitality, and Hazelle, for the offering he’d left on their doorstep earlier that week following the reaping - she showed Peeta into the main room of the house.

The remaining members of the Hawthorne family, along with Prim and her mother, were gathered there. Every chair in the house was crowded around the television. Katniss introduced Peeta to Vick and Posy.

Vick barely responded, caught up in his own world of mourning, intently watching the screen for any sign or mention of Rory. Posy, who was too young to understand everything going on, smiled bashfully at Peeta and waved hello.

Katniss’s mother came over to greet them. “Hazelle tells me you’re staying here tonight, Peeta. You shouldn’t be up and about, you need to keep weight off that ankle,” she chided gently. Katniss scowled. She knew that, but Peeta also needed a place to sleep, so there was no avoiding the move over here.

“Why don’t you lie down, Peeta?” her mother continued. “The more rest you can get, the better. Go show Peeta where he’ll be sleeping, Katniss.”

“What about the Games?” she asked, annoyed.

“We don’t have enough chairs as it is,” Hazelle volunteered weakly. “And you heard your mother, bedrest is the doctor’s orders.” She was trying to put on a brave face and be hospitable, but it was clear to see that she was struggling to hide how severely the upcoming broadcast was affecting her. Mrs. Everdeen watched Hazelle, concerned, then laid a hand on Peeta’s shoulder. “We won’t tell if you skip tonight’s viewing. Katniss can catch you up tomorrow.”

“Okay.” The gratitude and relief was palpable in Peeta’s voice. “That sounds good.” He was probably more than worn out at this point, Katniss realized.

In all honesty, Katniss was a little relieved at this turn of events too. Hazelle was the epitome of grace under pressure, but if things went poorly in the arena tonight, Katniss wanted to be able to focus solely on helping the Hawthorne’s through it. If she could resolve Peeta’s sleeping arrangements before whatever horrors the Gamemakers had in mind for tonight started, all the better.

Katniss led Peeta to the door to the room where Gale, Rory, and Vick had all slept only weeks ago. She barely stuck her head in, merely pointing from the doorway. “Vick sleeps there. But that pallet was Gale’s, and that one is Rory’s. You can use whichever you need.”

Peeta stared at the pallets, unmoving. She bristled momentarily, thinking he was shocked that they couldn’t all afford proper beds, like merchants had in Town. But then Katniss saw that there was a quietly devastated look to Peeta’s expression, and she realized he was staring specifically at Rory’s pallet.

She bit her lip. He’d found out only moments ago that the Capitol had abducted a child and sent them to the Games without a reaping, without warning, without a word. Now he was seeing Rory’s possessions, left behind as a silent testament to an unspoken crime. Of course he was still shaken.

Briefly, Katniss let her eyes fall on the pallet, the rumpled blanket and pillow still dented with the impression of Rory’s head. Peeta didn’t know this was the very scene of the abduction. Didn’t know like she did that this was the very last place Rory had ever felt safe.

It felt like everything was closing in on her and the people she loved, and everything was lost, or soon to be. Katniss could feel her breath quickening as her eyes prickled with tears and her throat threatened to close up. She didn’t want this to be real. It couldn’t be real.

Someone took her hand, and Katniss realized her face was wet. She tried to shake the thoughts away and ground herself in the present moment. Peeta was standing next to her, his hand cradled hers. And just as he’d described earlier in her kitchen, reality was becoming bewildering and totally unrecognizable.

But there were people waiting for her in the next room, people that were going to need her tonight. Her growing awareness that the world was quickly unraveling around them wasn’t helping.

“Katniss. Are you okay?” Peeta asked sadly, already knowing the answer.

How could she respond? She stood there, feeling as if she was floundering, until she heard Prim’s voice in the main room of the house. Being strong for Prim was something Katniss knew how to do. She dashed away the moisture on her cheeks. “I should get back. I’ll come back to check on you in a little bit. Is there anything else you need?”

Peeta shook his head, eyes full of empathy. “I’m more than fine, thank you.” Katniss hesitated at the door, afraid of what awaited them during tonight’s viewing. Peeta squeezed her hand. “Go on. They need you.”

She nodded and turned to face the Capitol’s worst. When she rejoined the Hawthornes, Prim pulled her aside.

“Where’s Rory?” Prim whispered. “Hazelle said he was sick days ago, but she wouldn’t let us see him, which made no sense. And he’s clearly not here!”

There was fear and alarm in Prim’s eyes. Their mother had to be unsettled too. Katniss wanted to bury her head in her hands. Hazelle hadn’t told Prim or their mother, and she couldn’t go against that.

Katniss didn’t want to keep secrets from Prim, but she also wanted to shield her little duck from the truth of what happened. But  It seemed impossible that Rory’s whereabouts could be kept under wraps for long. And it would be completely unacceptable if Rory’s fate went unrecognized. Katniss was completely torn.

“Prim, I can’t tell you. The most I can say is that something is very, very wrong.” It was clear from the expression on Prim’s face that she didn’t accept that.  “I promise that when the time is right, I’ll help you understand.”

Prim frowned and furrowed her brows. “You don’t have to always be the brave one, Katniss. And you don’t need to protect me. I think if I’m old enough to be reaped, I’m old enough to shoulder some of this burden, whatever it is. These past few days, you look as though the world’s turned upside down. I thought it must be because of Gale being in the arena. But now Rory’s missing. What’s going on?”

Templesmith stopped singing his imbecilic praises of the tributes from Two at that moment, and Katniss was saved the difficulty of trying to answer. When the coverage switched to live footage of the arena, all attention was focused on the screen.

Her stomach dropped as she watched. Nothing for days, and now they were leading right off with “Gale.” It was a distant overhead shot of Rory, no surprise there, but it was an acknowledgement nonetheless. The Gamemakers weren’t ignoring him anymore. It felt like a menacing reminder that they hadn’t forgotten Gale’s stunt during the interview, and it made ice to run through Katniss’s veins.

The night progressed relatively uneventfully. Another bad sign. The Careers had stockpiled all the supplies they could find near the Cornucopia, and since they’d picked off all the easiest targets in their previous nightly hunts, they mostly sat around a fire bickering, waiting for the remaining desperate tributes to grow so hungry, they’d risk anything for some sustenance. It had been hours, the Capitolites must be getting bored. And as the minutes ticked inexorably by, the pit of dread that had settled in Katniss’s stomach coiled tighter and tighter.

The cameras kept switching back to Rory. He would be just barely visible through the foliage from one angle, then they’d show another tribute. Next there would be a glimpse of him through one of the distorted lenses situated in the knot of a tree. And back to another tribute.

Something was going to happen tonight. Katniss knew it. And even knowing there was nothing she could do, it was impossible to sit still. Katniss looked around. Vick was riveted to the screen, clearly thankful to see that Rory was okay. She didn’t think he could discern the Gamemaker’s intent in the way they cut shots together, building up to something. Prim looked perturbed by what she was seeing, possibly starting to realize that the person they were watching wasn’t actually Gale.

Turning, Katniss looked over to her mother. Her hand was over her mouth, face stricken. She clearly knew something was coming. Next to her, Hazelle was ashen and shrinking into herself, as if she could somehow brace herself for whatever the Arena had in store.

And Posy...Posy was nowhere to be seen. Katniss rose, thankful for a reason to break away momentarily. She needed a breath of air; the glow of the screen was oppressive, and the sounds of the arena were suffocating her.

* * *

 Peeta couldn't get comfortable. It wasn't because of his ankle. It wasn't the unfamiliarity of the surroundings. It was because he still felt like it was wrong to intrude on the Hawthorne’s privacy on such a night. That, and he felt incredibly guilty for his interest in the rare glimpse into Katniss’s life.

Their ranks were decimated, but they still presented a fiercely united front. As soon as he and Katniss had arrived here, she’d pulled Hazelle into a tight hug.  Peeta knew she was desperately trying to bolster their strength with her own in these moments, as if her resilience and resolve could be transferred through their clasped arms and proximal torsos.

Peeta railed against himself for using so solemn a circumstance to learn about Katniss, but he was powerless to look away. The flashes of pain and love that washed across her face as she struggled to hold the ravaged and patched family together made him want to reach out to her, and comfort her in some way. The insight was precious to him, though no less tragic.

He’d noted with interest that Katniss seemed much more open and comfortable with Hazelle. She’d addressed the older woman as an equal, as though together they represented a seamless unit, joined in determination to see their families survive. Mrs. Everdeen’s interjection regarding his recovery had clearly been unwelcome.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door creaked slowly open. At first, it looked like there was no one on the other side, but then Peeta noticed gray eyes sparkling at him further down than he’d originally looked.

Posy slipped into the room with a smile. She likely didn’t recognize the significance of the events on screen, Peeta realized. It was a small mercy.

She sidled over to his pallet, clearly a little shy, but still bold enough to come and investigate their visitor. Peeta sat up, shifting his leg gingerly, to greet her. He tried to look open and friendly. And definitely not like an imposition.

The little girl studied him, curious and quiet, starting with his propped ankle and ending with his yellow hair.

“I’m Posy,” she said informatively.

“I’m Peeta,” he replied.

She seemed to consider that for a moment, then nodded, deeming his name or his person acceptable.

“My brother’s bigger than you.”

Peeta’s shoulders lowered a bit. “He’s taller. I know.”

“You have funny hair.”

And as if that was sufficient warning, Posy proceeded to climb up onto the pallet and into his lap.

Charmed, Peeta sat obligingly still so she could settle, but that wasn’t Posy’s intention. She stood up, feet balancing precariously on his thigh. His hands went out to steady her, but she had her own ideas of how to maintain balance. Posy reached immediately for the top of his head and took two greedy handfuls of hair.

Apparently, his ash blond curls, so different from her straight black locks, were too novel to resist. She flexed her fingers, giggling at the springiness of the waves grasped tightly in her fists. “My friend has a dolly with hair like you.”

Peeta smiled faintly. He had no problem sacrificing the feeling in his scalp for her amusement, but her feet were constantly shifting, and the movement was jolting his leg all the way down to his injured ankle.

Still, Peeta was hesitant to disrupt her. He didn’t want to disappoint her or give her the impression that her diversion was unwelcome. He had almost no experience with little children. How did you tell one to stop having fun in a way that made them still like you?

Before he could decide on the best way to proceed, Katniss was at his side after a completely soundless approach. She gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes.

“For odds’ sake, Posy. We want to let Peeta recover, not add a headache to his list of ailments,” she tutted softly as she carefully extricated Posy’s fingers from his hair. Before Peeta could even register the liberation of his scalp from the little girl’s grasp, Katniss had gathered Posy in her arms and whisked her up and away back toward the door.

“You know, you’d don’t have to just go along with everything. You can tell her if she needs to be more careful of your ankle.”

Peeta’s face colored. He felt foolish. He didn’t know how to behave around little girls, having only older brothers and being the youngest. Apparently, letting one walk all over oneself (or climb, as it were) was a sign of ineptitude. He likely looked about as mature as Posy now. Meanwhile, Katniss behaved with all the calm humor and decisive authority of a seasoned caretaker.

“Right. Got it,” he mumbled.

“He’s got doll hair,” Posy volunteered.

Katniss bit her lip as the ghost of a smile teased her lips. This was just what she needed after an afternoon of being humiliated in front of Peeta. “Does he now?”

The youngest Hawthorne nodded authoritatively.

“Well, Peeta’s got to get some rest, and it’s high time you did the same,” Katniss said, in a voice that was kind but brokered no argument. She paused in the doorway and looked back to him. “Goodnight, Peeta.”

The corner of her mouth was tilted upward, and his breath caught. Earlier tonight, Katniss had left the room barely able to hold back her tears.

Whether she understood what was happening in the world around her or not, Posy Hawthorne was a genius.

* * *

 Katniss’s amusement was a momentary respite, but reality intruded brutally and quickly.

After she got Posy to turn in for the night, she rejoined the others. The cameras had returned to Rory’s progress when she sat back down next to Prim. It was dusk in the arena, but he’d stopped looking for a place to bed down for the night. Instead, he seemed to be hovering at the edge of a glade. He circled, round and round, peeking into the clearing of trees.

Something had been left behind by another tribute. It was a wrapped bundle, and it could be food. Perhaps someone had heard the Careers approaching and fled in such haste that they left provisions behind.

Whatever it was, it was just sitting there. Rory was clearly tempted. Katniss felt her heart rise to her throat. He’d be more vulnerable, moving out in the open to get it. And it looked _too_ convenient. But Rory had to be starving by now, and though she was dismayed, Katniss wasn’t surprised when she saw him take his first tentative steps into the glade.

No one dared take a breath as the cameras above tracked him getting closer and closer to whatever it was that had been left behind. Foreboding gnawed at the pit of Katniss’s stomach. Something wasn’t right. There was an eerie hush in the glade, as if the sounds of the forest had dropped away to see what happened.

Rory had just reached the bundle when there was a swoosh, and a net swept up from below the leaf covering on the floor of the clearing, knocking Rory off his feet and surrounding him. He cried out in alarm and began to struggle, thrashing and trying to pull through the mesh.

Hazelle began to weep in despair and Vick sat frozen in front of the screen. Katniss reached over and gripped Prim’s hand with all her might. They’d heard Marvel bragging about laying booby traps for hungry tributes. She’d assumed the traps had been poorly made, because there hadn't been any evidence of them working for days. Katniss had forgotten they existed at all.

Rory struggled for what felt like hours. The mesh was too strong for him to break through, and he was hopelessly entangled. He couldn’t seem to find any edge or seam to weaken. Eventually his movements slowed as he exhausted himself. At least temporarily, he gave up trying to get out.

Rory laid there, helpless, as the sky above the Arena darkened. He began fumbling with something, and Katniss realized that whatever he’d been trying to reach _had_ been food. Rory was wisely making the best of the situation and getting nourishment while he could.

The Careers might check their traps tomorrow. Or another tribute could find him. Or maybe no one would, and he’d die of dehydration in the center of the glade. Katniss bit her lip. No. There had to be a way he could get out of this.

As twilight crept in, Rory began to cry softly. He sounded drained, hopeless, and so clearly defeated, that Katniss felt like she was dying inside to hear it. The cameras above zoomed in a little closer. Emboldened by the dying light, the Gamemakers were unable to resist the opportunity to exploit pain and tragedy.

 _“Rory…”_ Prim whispered, in horrified recognition. She dropped Katniss’s hand.

The arena sky began to lighten in one direction. Katniss furrowed her brow. Night was just falling, how could it be getting brighter? Dark flashes suddenly blocked out the feed for brief snatches of time, and Katniss realized that they were birds flying past the cameras.

Leaning forward, she squinted at the screen. There were shadows moving along the floor of the clearing as well. Forest animals, all moving in one direction. Katniss jumped to her feet, panicked, as understanding set in.

Rory realized what was happening in the same instant, and began scrambling to claw to his way out of the net. “No! No, no, _no…please!_ ” he begged as his fingers fumbled in the dark.

The plea fell flat as the muffled roar of a distant fire became audible. All eyes in Panem were on the trapped boy in the clearing, as if every viewer stood there with him. But to Rory, he was completely alone. No one was there to help, no one was there to even hear him.

“What?! What’s happening?” Prim demanded, her voice choked with alarm. Vick began to cry, newly afraid. Before Katniss could answer, smoke began drifting lazily into the glade as the fire approached, rendering any response she could give unnecessary.

It was all a sick statement, Katniss realized, that Rory should die by fire. Gale had looked so powerful, so incandescent when he entered the City Circle on that chariot, enrobed in flames. He’d been a triumph, the ‘boy on fire.’ And in the interview he’d proven how hotly that fire raged.

Now the Gamemakers were going to make a mockery of the title he’d earned. As far as Panem was concerned, it was Gale in the clearing. And the Gamemakers wanted to show everyone at home that those fiery words only served to consume him in the end. How _fitting_ they must think it, Katniss thought with disgust.

The fire was close enough now that one half of the clearing was illuminated in flickering light.The air was choked with smoke, and when Rory wasn’t coughing violently, he was calling futilely for help.

The smoke grew thicker and blacker by the second, and Katniss knew it must be searing Rory’s lungs. No one in the mining district was unfamiliar with the dangers of fire and smoke inhalation. Mining tunnels were known to explode in violent flare-ups, and the Seam was a coal-dusted tinderbox.

Rory would probably pass out from asphyxiation before the flames reached him. Katniss tried to tell herself it was a small mercy, but she knew too well there was no such thing in the arena, and no dressing up the horror that Rory was about to endure.

The cameras zoomed still closer, thirsting for torment, and gluttonous with the need to revel in misfortune. But it was this rapaciousness for pain and misery that was the Gamemakers’ weakness. Because in taking their fill of Rory’s end, they once again let their guard down. And like his brother before him, Rory had a knack for catching the Capitol unawares.

Knowing there were mere minutes left of his life, Rory abandoned hope and latched onto spite. The Capitol would regret every second of his last moments.

Though the roar of the approaching blaze was quickly becoming deafening, every microphone in the vicinity had been tuned to Rory’s cries. And so his words, suddenly bold and determined, carried clearly into every home in the nation.

“My name is Rory Hawthorne! I am fourteen years old, and I was never reaped! My brother is Gale, and he was never here! He escaped the arena! He was nev-”

The camera abruptly cut away, denying the viewers hungering for human suffering their promised banquet. And the Hawthornes were spared witnessing Rory’s death.

But Rory wasn’t finished yet. In their haste, the Gamemakers frantically switched the footage to the next nearest tribute, which happened to ben the fox-faced girl from Five.

She was scrambling out of the tree she’d been hiding in, as the forest fire was rapidly spreading. The girl from Five had been steadily stealing supplies from the Career’s stockpile, and things she’d swiped kept getting caught on the branches as she descended.

It was taking her longer than it should have to get down from the tree, and because of that, she was worrisomely close to the approaching blaze. And within earshot of Rory. As she neared the ground, Rory’s voice filtered through the thundering flames in snatches -- desperate but certain, doomed but brave.

“...name is Rory...taken from Twelve...Gale never...”

By now Foxface had reached the ground. Katniss expected her to scramble around beneath the trunk of the tree, gathering items she’d dropped before bolting to safety. But instead she just stood as if frozen in place and listened.

Only snatches of words and phrases broke through the din of the inferno now. “-ame is Ror-...Gale esca-...Never here… _-Rory!”_

Then all sound of a human voice died away, and there was only the relentless roar of the unnatural fire. There were tear tracks on Foxface’s cheeks, glowing in the flickers of approaching light.

The vibration of a tree crashing to the ground in flames not far off was sufficient to jar her into action, and the tribute from Five darted in the opposite direction as fast as she could, to the resounding boom of cannon fire.

The damage was done on both sides. Rory was dead. And Panem had heard the truth.

Katniss slowly returned to the Hawthorne’s living room. There was no movement, no sound. She was still on her feet, as if her fight or flight instinct could have somehow helped the situation.

Vick had fled into his mother’s arms, and Hazelle was holding onto him for dear life, rocking back and forth as her body shook with silent, wrenching sobs. Her own mother sat off to the side of the pair in shock. Katniss reached out for Prim, but the younger girl shrugged her away, hunching in on herself.

The trumpets of the Capitol anthem blared early, and Katniss turned back in time to see a picture of Rue and Gale appear in the night sky over the arena. She hadn’t even heard the cannon for Rue. But with Gale, the Gamemakers were trying to regain control of narrative of the Games after Rory tore down their artifice. It seemed a pathetic attempt on their part.

They quickly switched to post-primetime coverage. It seemed obvious Templesmith was attempting to do some hasty damage control. When he started in on how a combination of hunger, thirst, and cowardice had clearly rendered Gale delusional and raving like a madman in his last moments, Katniss turned the screen away and threw her coat over the set to muffle the sound. There were no on and off buttons on the capitol-issued television sets. When the Capitol wanted an audience, Panem was forced to watch.

But not now. Their combined families, barely surviving together and already fractured beyond recognition, now seemed decimated beyond repair. Katniss looked at the faces around her, and wondered how they were possibly going to go on.

It would be a different world they woke to, she knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! It's another heavy chapter I'm afraid, but that's the general tenor of this story. I hope you will consider leaving me a comment to let me know what you think so far!
> 
> I am ghtlovesthg on tumblr, do stop by! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think! :) I am ghtlovesthg on tumblr.


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